Puella Stellae Madoka Magica
by Snowflames
Summary: In the name of the Immortal Goddess: burn the heretic, kill the mutant, purge the unclean.
1. O: Prologue

**Author's Note**

Crazy Idea. Materialized. Posted on SpaceBattles. Approved. Made repository here.

Subscribe to receive notifications about updates! I will not update this regularly like MBA, but I will continue this!

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><p><em>Copyright Notice:<em>

_Puella Magi Madoka Magica and characters from the series belong to SHAFT.  
>Warhammer 40,000 belongs to Games Workshop.<br>This story is the product of Snowflames (Shadowflames on SpaceBattles)._

__You are welcome to distribute this only for non-profit purposes and only as long as this copyright notice is distributed with the story without alteration or modification.__

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><p>The God Emperor of Mankind sat on his Golden Throne, tacit and unmoving for ten thousand years.<p>

In these ten thousand years, he dreamt.

His soul roamed the cosmos, drifting in and out of the Warp.

He saw horrors committed to his subjects, horrors that he could have prevented.

He saw his Administratum, his loyal servants, corrupted and swayed by sins, sins that made them unfit to be called "men".

He saw his Imperium, his vision of Paradise for all human kind, decrepit and dying, rotting away from the inside, being possessed and controlled by the religious fanatic and the morally corrupt.

He saw his Space Marines, his guardians for his people and his protectors for his vision, slowly but surely diminishing in numbers and being twisted for nefarious purposes, both body and soul.

He saw the Cult Mechanicus, his ally and partner in the Great Crusade, stagnate and die, abandoning their noble pursuit of knowledge in exchange for superstitious faith and adamant adherence to the old ways, slowly being converted by the dragon he thought he had slain under the Labyrinth of Mars.

He saw Chaos, the Great Enemy, run rampant and unopposed in the universe, taking the lives of his beloved subjects in the millions and twisting many more to their service.

He saw Xenos: Eldar, Ork, Tau, Tyranid, and Necrons alike. He saw them treating human lives as dirt and dust, using some of his subjects to advance their own agenda, while trampling others under their boot heels.

He saw the galaxy, and he wept.

Was all lost? Was there no hope?

He turned his gaze on an untarnished planet, a pristine gem buried under the sea of filth and evil.

And he smiled.

* * *

><p>Madoka Kaname dashed through a hallway filled with checker patterns.<p>

She did not know why she was running. Something compelled her; there was something that she must do, she must see.

There was an emergency exit sign. There was no time for Madoka to wonder why it was there. Without thinking, she went as the sign indicated, and she was met with a heavy metal door.

With a creak the door opened. With a creak she was flooded with the world.

She was standing on top of a withered tree, surrounded by floating rubble. The sky was dark and foreboding, as if some great evil had blotted out the sun.

A creature, an abnormally large upside-down doll with legs replaced by large gears, floated in the sky. It was unlike anything Madoka had ever seen, as if it were from a nightmare.

In the distance, a small violet streak of light danced. Madoka squinted her eyes to see better; but as much as she wanted, she couldn't see who the light was.

The streak of light darted between buildings as they were flung against her like a baby throwing toys around. Several times, the light was seemingly smothered as buildings crashed against each other, but in a blink of an eye, the light reappeared and continued to make its way towards the large doll.

Madoka could not blink, for she knew somehow that if she blinked even once, she may never see the light again.

The dance between light and shadow continued. The large doll tossed streaks of black sludge against the light; it nimbly dodged most of them, and whenever black sludge did hit, a flare of light dispersed it.

"This is terrible!" Whoever the light was, Madoka knew that it was a losing fight. As each stream of sludge made its impact, the flare of light grew dimmer and dimmer. It was only a matter of time before the violet light died out for ever.

"We can't do anything about it now." A white furry creature with glassy red eyes sat like a cat on a rock besides Madoka. "It's too much for her, but I'm sure she understands the consequences."

If that creature knew that it was too much, then why couldn't it help? Madoka thought as she turned her attention back to the battle at hand. Red flame swept around the light, changing and shifting into psychedelic colors as it dispersed, but she just kept going, until the light was finally overpowered by another stream of black sludge and she was blown back like a bullet, crashing into one of the tree branches.

She had flowing black hair down to her waist, dressed in a short grey-and-white dress with a checkered pattern and black stockings. A round buckler was strapped to her right arm. A small necklace, with an ornate letter "I", dangled from her collars.

"She can't handle this!" Madoka yelled at the white creature as the black-haired girl attempted to rise. "I can't just sit here and watch!"

Madoka shifted her eyes on the girl again, and their gazes met. She had a pair of beautiful and haunting black eyes; Madoka was sure that she could be quite the fancy of boys in her class. But at the moment, her eyes were filled with nothing but grief, despair, and pain.

She screamed. Madoka could not hear her cry, but it seemed like she wanted her help.

"It's over once you give up." The white creature commented. How it could remain so calm and collected in front of the unfolding tragedy, Madoka would never know.

What could Madoka do to save her? What could Madoka do to stop the tragedy from reaching its conclusion?

"But you can change your destiny." The words kindled a glimmer of hope inside Madoka. Did the creature know a way of saving the girl?

Her train of thought was interrupted, however, by a sharp noise in her eardrums. It made her wince and cover her ears, but that did not reduce the noise.

"The destruction and grief are inevitable. But you can change it all." Did she really have what it takes to change the world? Was she really the one? Madoka pondered the creature's words as best as she could.

"You have the power to do it."

If she could change the destiny and save the girl…

"Really?" The black-haired girl rolled off the branch and fell, screaming as she did. "Can someone like me really make a difference? Can I avoid this outcome?"

"Of course." The creature's answer turned the kindling of hope into a blazing fire.

"If you really want to, make a contract with me and become a Magical Girl!"

If that was all it takes to save the girl, she would do it. Madoka steeled her resolve. It did not matter how much she would sacrifice; the only thing that mattered was to save the girl's life.

And then, she woke up.

* * *

><p>Homura Akemi slowly drifted through the void.<p>

She had failed to achieve her objective. She had been returned to the void by her artifact.

And here, she would meet the stranger yet again.

"We meet again, Homura Akemi." A deep baritone enveloped her as a small sphere of golden light approached her body. "How are you holding up?"

She closed her eyes. Tears began welling up inside her as the Pandora box of emotions began to buckle: "I'm… I've failed… again…"

"Indeed." The sphere of light morphed into a golden eagle that stood in front of her. The voice of the eagle was a heavenly deep baritone, almost like her father's. "But take heart, my child. The flame in your heart still burns bright."

"And with it, I will dispel the darkness and bring about light." Homura clutched her golden necklace tight. "But I still find it hard to believe that there are trillions of us out there, waiting to be saved. Waiting for Madoka. Waiting for you."

"Humans had always had a need for a symbol of hope; the proverbial 'light at the end of the tunnel.'" The golden eagle tilted his head, as if amused. "They needed a light brighter than a thousand suns; a light that would burn away all corruption, all filth, and all evil."

"And Madoka would be this light?" Homura stared deeply into the eagle's eyes.

"No. Not yet. Not as she is now, but very soon she will be." The eagle flexed his wings. "You, my child, are instrumental in my plans. You are her source of power; you are her strength and support. The Warp spawns are closing in on her. She shall never come to harm until it is time."

"And then, all shall be saved." Homura continued. The eagle's light was hypnotizing; she felt comfortable warmth around her as her hands also glowed, warmth that she had never felt before.

"Indeed, my child." The eagle fluttered about in front of Homura. "But you must hurry. My will is fragmented, and I grow weaker with each passing moment. Time is of the essence! The fate of humanity hang in the balance."

The eagle suddenly became so bright that Homura needed to shield her eyes. When she regained her eyesight, she was staring at the ceiling of her apartment.

She slowly crawled out of bed and walked to the bathroom, her necklace dangling above her chests.

The girl in the mirror looked exhausted. She had disheveled black hair and deep rings around her eyes, as if she had not slept in days. Her black irises were surrounded with thousands of small red veins, and a black ring surrounded each of her eyes as if she had not slept in days.

She splashed cold water on her face. It helped her wake up from the nightmare; but it was not just a nightmare. She somehow knew that the eagle was telling the truth.

She must fight, for Madoka's sake. For all humanity's sake.

She must fight. And she must succeed.

No matter the odds. No matter the cost.

* * *

><p>The Lunar-class Cruiser <em>Invicta <em>hovered in the orbit of the strange blue planet.

The ship was spat out of a Warp storm just as its Geller field generators were about to fail after drifting for months inside the Warp. Inquisitor Gideon Kane considered himself and the ship lucky; if it were not for the Emperor's Divine Will, they would surely have perished in the warp.

"Do you know where we are?" The Inquisitor asked the Navigator of the ship impatiently. All of the Astropaths on the ship had failed in establishing contact again with the Imperium as they were situated in the quiet eye of a Warp storm.

"No, lord." The Navigator seemed apologetic. "We seemed to be in a pocket of real space surrounded by the Warp storm. This is space uncharted in any of the Imperial star charts."

Damn it; the Inquisitor cursed under his breath. The Gellar field generators on the _Invicta_ had just failed; it meant that they needed to find a place to repair it at sub-warp speeds. Even if they managed to repair the field generators, the size of the Warp storm was so large that it would take years, if not centuries, to cross.

They were effectively isolated and trapped in this system.

He stormed out of the Navigator's office. Being a gruff man with over a hundred years of experience in fighting heretics and mutants, he had very little patience for delays. But he was more intrigued by the blue planet; what secrets would it hold?

He returned to the bridge, in time to see the captain about to retire to his quarters.

"Ah, Inquisitor. I was just about to retire." Captain Miroslav was an even older man in appearance, with a large beard as white as snow. "Do you need anything?"

The Inquisitor had not been on good terms with the old captain ever since he boarded the _Invicta_. Captain Miroslav had his share of run-ins with the Inquisition, and though none of the Inquisitors had found any sign of heresy on him or his crew, they had all died violent deaths months after they left the ship. It was certainly an ill omen for Inquisitor Kane, one that he hoped to avoid.

"Have you conducted a scan of the planet yet?" The captain would be a fool not to have done so, but the Inquisitor needed to make certain.

"We have." The Captain brought up a data slate for the Inquisitor, "It appeared to be a Gamma-class civilized world, but its technologies are interesting."

The Inquisitor read through the information on the data slate. The citizens on the blue world seemed to have not had any Xeno influence whatsoever, and had developed technology independently from the Imperium. They did not adopt High Gothic as the language of choice; instead, the cogitators on the _Invicta_ deemed their languages to be descendants from ancient Earth tongues.

This may be a world lost to the Imperium from the Dark Age of Technology. The Warp storm around the world had been raging for millennia; the humans on this planet must have formed their society free of outside influence.

However, being at the center of a warp storm, it was a virtual certainty that at least portions of the populace had been affected by the Taint. Yet it did not seem that daemons had paid attention to the world at all.

The Inquisitor was puzzled. How did the world manage to survive without succumbing to the Warp?

Since he had no choice but to wait for the repair on the Geller field generators, he decided to examine the planet in further detail. If all goes well, he may be able to reclaim this planet for the Imperium.

The Emperor would surely be pleased, he thought.


	2. I: It Was Like I Saw Her in a Dream, 1

There was something wrong with this planet.

That was the first thing Inquisitor Kane's instincts told him as soon as they made landfall.

It was difficult enough to hide himself from the common citizen's sight through his psychic abilities. Each person he had encountered is at least a Xi level psyker, and hiding from those is slightly more difficult than normal.

He was not surprised at the abundance of psychically active humans on the planet. After all, the planet itself is situated in the center of an enormous Warp storm, and the Warp had to have influenced the population somewhat if the planet had been here for millennia.

What he found strange was that there were no psykers like him. It was as if the Warp affected every single individual the same way, and no one was more exceptional than others.

Do the daemons pluck these exceptional individuals from the population to possess? Or is it the case that this population of humans just happened to be developing psychic potentials at a uniform rate?

All Inquisitor Kane had at that moment was hypotheses, hypotheses that he intended on validating or rejecting through observations of the local populace.

The repairs of the Invicta would last months, if not years; he had ample time to observe this new population, despite his restless impatience. A wrong move here, and he could potentially gift this world to the Great Enemy.

There were certainly signals and traces of Chaos worship. The desire for material comfort, for example, was overwhelmingly important in the lives of a common citizen. There were some religions on the planet, but none of them involved the Emperor and His Divine Will.

Nobody had even heard of the Emperor on this planet.

Either the records of the Emperor and his Holy Crusade were lost and never recovered, or this planet had been isolated from normal space from before the Emperor.

He was no missionary of the Ecclesiarchy. He was a simple inquisitor under Ordo Malleus, one upon whom the Emperor did not bestow his gift of charisma. Converting the planet may amount to an insurmountable challenge for him.

He quietly smiled as he slowly moved through the shadows.

He loved challenges.

* * *

><p>It was an ordinary morning of an ordinary day.<p>

Madoka Kaname was exhausted when she woke up.

The dream was weird. Too weird. What was the whole business with the dancing light and shadow? Who was that girl with the dark hair? What was that creature saying?

Madoka's brain was not working well enough to answer those questions. Dreams were just dreams; they should make no impact on her daily activities.

Her father was already working in the garden, picking out tomatoes for the family breakfast. Her mother, being the heavy sleeper she was, needed more than an alarm clock to rise from her slumber.

Her little brother was already stomping on the bed in his childish attempt to wake his mother up. Futile as it is, Madoka thought his bouncing up and down cute.

With an authoritative slam she opened the blinds. With a glare, her little brother hopped off of the bed with the clumsy dexterity of a child. With a hard tug, she exposed the woman within the blanket cocoon: "Rise and shine, Mrs. Kaname! Rise and… SHINE!"

With a wail akin to a cat having its tail trampled, her mother sprang up from her bed.

It was an ordinary morning of an ordinary day.

"Hitomi got another love letter. This is her second one in a month." Why she could not be as popular as her friend, Madoka thought she would never understand.

"A guy who doesn't have the balls to confess to you in person isn't someone you want to be with, anyway." Relationship advice from her mother was always blunt and direct. Madoka liked that part about her mother; she could always count on her mother to provide her with unabridged wisdom.

Being a successful businesswoman worth millions of dollars, her mother paid much attention to appearances. Madoka, on the other hand, agonized over the choice between red and yellow ribbons for her tails.

"This one."

"Isn't this a little bit too bold?" Madoka always thought that being modest is a virtue.

"That's the idea. You can't have people looking down on you because you're too plain." The secret to success for her mother had always been confidence. "See? Isn't that nice? Now your secret admirers would be head over heels in love."

"I don't have anyone like that!" Madoka seriously wondered from where her mother got her confidence.

"You need to tell yourself that you do." Maybe that was why. "That's the key to staying beautiful."

With a high-five from her mother and a slice of toast, Madoka's day started officially.

It was yet another bright and sunny day. Hitomi and Sayaka met her half-way on their way to school.

"Wow, aren't you looking bold today?" Sayaka commented on her ribbons, "Madoka looks cute for once!"

"Really? Aren't they too colorful?"

"They look really good on you!" Hitomi was as reserved as ever.

The chatter between friends continued as they made a dash to the school.

* * *

><p>Homura quickly brushed her rebellious hair straight.<p>

Sometimes she wished she did not have waist-long hair like some princess out of a movie. It was heavy, it took tons of shampoo and conditioner to just clean, it took forever to dry, and it could tangle with other things real quickly.

What would Madoka think of her with short hair? She once said that it was beautiful.

Homura had failed to save that Madoka, too. Out of the hundreds of cycles she had been through, she was closest to that Madoka.

Homura was not able to save her, either.

She should have been numb to the pain now. She should have gotten used to losing Madoka in every cycle. But every time she combs her hair, Homura would see Madoka in the mirror, and it would still bring a tear to her eye.

She quickly raised her head and kept the teardrop in her eye. It was not time for her to grieve. It was not time for her to reminisce. If she did not move quickly, she would be late for her first class at Mitakihara High.

The distance between her apartment and the school was not a long one. She had walked the road thousands of times; she could memorize each turn, each corner and each face she would see on this day.

It was the only day that did not change.

Her small necklace dangled from her neck and shook as she took each step. Ever since the strange golden eagle met her after a cycle and this necklace materialized, she had always kept it on her. "When it is time, give her this necklace," the eagle said; as for when and where, it did not elaborate much further than "follow your heart."

Homura did not trust the eagle completely, nor did she despise it as a companion. It offered her advice when she was lost, and comfort when she was hurt. It was a good friend, but Homura could not bring herself to trust the eagle completely.

There was no evidence that indicated that there was even a higher power out there.

But if there were, and the eagle was its conduit, it could quite possibly save Madoka from her fate and release Homura from her shackles.

With a hint of hesitation, Homura stepped into the grounds of Mitakihara High.

Another cycle has begun.

* * *

><p>Ranger Azrael quietly followed the black-haired girl on her way to school.<p>

The _mon-keigh_ was essential in their king's plans. The farseers have seen the future; the coming of the _mon-keigh_ god must not come to pass before the time of Ynnead, lest the Eldar be slaves of Slaanesh for eternity.

The girl was not aware of his presence. Azrael aimed his rifle at her head. with some pressure from his finger, it would all be over; the _mon-keigh_ would be extinguished by the warp, and then, in their lust for blood Chaos would bring about the coming of Ynnead, earning the Eldar their salvation.

"Not yet."

Azrael froze. His Far Seer had spoken; she must have seen a more apocalyptic vision of the future, if she was to so explicitly prevent his actions.

"The child must not be harmed until the time comes." The Far Seer communicated telepathically. "Our base of operations on this planet remains secure; if she were to be harmed, it would jeopardize our plans to quell this Warp storm and reclaim this Maiden world."

With an almost inaudible sigh, Azrael took his finger off the trigger. As a seasoned Ranger expert in assassinations, Azrael knew that chances like the one he just had were fleeting, and once it had come, nothing could guarantee it to come again.

But the Far Seer was proven to be wise in her counsel, and Azrael was not about to incur her wrath by following his instincts.

For the moment, he needed to observe the girl.

And if he would encounter that _mon-keigh_ xenophobe, he would not hesitate to put him down.

* * *

><p>Miss Saotome ended up starting her class' morning with a rant about why men should not focus on how eggs were cooked. Madoka sighed and sank her face into her palms; she sometimes wished that she could have boyfriend problems like Hitomi and Kazuko.<p>

"Also, I'd like to introduce you all to a new transfer student."

A new transfer student? Madoka's eyes suddenly lit up in anticipation.

Who would she be? What would she look like? What kind of person would she be? Questions like that filled her little head with joy and expectation.

"Miss Akemi, please come in."

Oh, my god.

Madoka's jaw dropped as the girl slowly and stately walked into the classroom.

Waist-long black hair, check. Purplish-black eyes, check. Black hairband, check. Black stockings, check. Slender figures, check. Stone cold complexion, check. Even the necklace was present, an ornate letter "I" suspended from a thin gold chain.

She did not just see the girl of her dreams. The transfer student was the one that appeared in her dreams.

"She's cool!" Exclaimed the girls.

"She's cute!" Exclaimed the boys.

"Wow, what a hot girl!" Exclaimed Sayaka.

"There is no way!" Exclaimed Madoka. She quickly rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was not hallucinating. Reality hit her in the face like a snowball in the summer.

"Okay, Miss Akemi, please introduce yourself."

"My name is Akemi Homura. Pleased to meet you."

Her voice was heavenly, but her intonation was so filled with hostility that Madoka winced at each sentence. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Madoka was sure that Homura had directed the hostility at her.

Kazuko had trouble writing her name.

Akemi Homura. Morning, beauty, flame. Madoka could see how her name would relate to her personality: she was indeed a cute girl, with a fierce personality like that of a blazing fire.

The class fell silent as Homura took Kazuko's pen and wrote her own name on the whiteboard. Even Kazuko seemed uncomfortable around Homura, jerking in surprise as Homura took the pen.

The class attempted to resolve the frigid atmosphere with nervous laughter and sparse applause. Ever since Homura entered the classroom, the figurative air temperature had plummeted to absolute zero.

This time, Homura really did shoot a stare cold enough to freeze the sun at Madoka.

What did Homura have against her? For goodness sake, she had not even seen Homura before! Madoka made a small squeal and avoided meeting Homura's eyes.

What is going on here?

Homura was surrounded by girls whose name she could not even remember, even after she had seen them for hundreds of times.

They bombarded her with questions, questions that she had answered for hundreds of times. She understood how people lose their patience from boredom and repetitions better than anyone.

The only girl she cared about was Madoka, the meek little girl with pink hair and red ribbons. Everyone else was either a tool, a stepping stone, or irrelevent.

Even the green haired girl, Shizuki Hitomi. Even the blue-haired girl, Miki Sayaka. Even they were expendable.

"I'm sorry... maybe I was too nervous about earlier; I'm not feeling too well." A flimsy excuse would be sufficient to avoid these squabbling girls. "Would you please allow me to go to the nurse's office?"

The girls offered to be her guide. Homura could draw the map of Mitakihara High with a blindfold on and with her left hand.

Still, this was an opportunity for her to talk to Madoka alone: "It's okay. I'll ask the person in charge."

Madoka seemed to wince and whimper at her every step. Good, Homura thought; emotional distance between her and Madoka was good. This way, if she would fail again, she would not be hurt as much.

No, she must not think about failure, she decided as she approached; she will save Madoka at last, in this cycle.

But her cold visage was almost painful to maintain. Upon seeing Madoka's face, upon gazing into her eyes, upon hearing her voice, Homura just wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything would be all right, and tell her that Homura would protect her until the end of time.

But she could not. Emotional distance was necessary. Emotional distance was essential to her plans. "Miss Kaname Madoka, you're the health officer of this class, correct?"

"Um, uh, I..." Madoka felt intimidated. Homura's presence was intimidating her.

Homura did not want it to be this way. Homura wanted to be her best friend. Homura wanted to be her only friend. But it was something that she had to do: "Would you kindly take me to the nurse's office?"

In the hallway, Homura was a head-turner. Boys and girls alike were attracted to her, with murmurs of "she's really cute" and "what a hot girl" all around.

Homura paid them no heed. Those people were never in her life; their praises were useless to her.

Madoka trailed behind Homura, invisible to the crowd. Her footsteps were so quiet. So small. So precious. Homura could not help but feel sadness welling up inside of her.

"Um... how do you know I'm the health officer?"

"Miss Saotome told me." That was a lie.

"Ah, I see..." The answer seemed to agitate Madoka, coaxing a cute yelp of surprise from her. "The health office is..."

"That way, right?" The request was no more than an excuse to talk to Madoka alone.

"Huh? Yeah, it is, but... um, uh... you just seemed, uh, seemd like you know the way, is all!"

It was painful.

Madoka's stuttering was painful.

This Madoka never knew me. She would not remember me. She would treat me as a stranger. Logic tried to calm Homura down. But logic was never the loudest voice in the human mind.

"Um... Miss Akemi?"

Miss Akemi?

Miss Akemi!

"You can call me Homura." She did not know me. She would never remember me. She would treat me as a stranger.

But I'm not a stranger. I'm your guardian. I'm your protector. I'm your friend.

"... Homura?"

"What do you want?"

"Um, uh... that's a unique name." She did not know me. She would never remember me. She would treat me as a stranger. But I'm not a stranger. I'm your guardian. I'm your protector. I'm your friend.

"No, it's not weird; I didn't mean that..." She does not know me. She would never remember me. She would treat me as a stranger. But I'm not a stranger! I'm your guardian! I'm your protector! I'm your friend!

"It's a cool name! Yeah, I thought it's a cool name!"

But I'm not a stranger! I'm your guardian! I'm your protector! I'm your friend!

Homura swung around. They were standing on the crosswalkk between two buildings. The sun was ignorantly bright, the sky obliviously clear.

It was too much for Homura to handle.

Her gaze met Madoka's; Homura stared into her soul.

"Kaname Madoka. Do you value your current way of life?" Every word stabbed at Homura's heart as she tried to suppress her emotions. "Your family, your friends, everyone you care about. Do you treasure them as you treasure your own life?"

"I, uh... I... Yes, I do. My families, my friends, I love them all." Homura prayed inside that Madoka would stop slashing at her already bleeding heart. "They are the world to me!"

"Is that true?" Homura always knew.

"Of course! Why would I lie to you?" Homura had always known.

"Is that so." There must be a warning for Madoka. She must not become what Homura was. What Sayaka would be. "If that's the case, you must never think about becoming someone else."

"If you do, you will lose everything." She had suffered the consequences.

"You just need to stay Kaname Madoka, like you always have."

Because I am going to protect you, Madoka. Until the end of time.


	3. II: It was Like I Saw Her in a Dream, 2

The electronic whiteboard quickly shifted to accommodate Homura's writing.

Madoka, like everyone else in the class, was amazed at Homura's mathematical skills. Mitakihara was known to be an extremely advanced school for gifted and talented children, and being admitted into the high school at all was no small feat. These problems in elementary number theory, modular arithmetic and integer arithmetic should not have been taught until at least first year university, yet Homura was blazing through them with ease.

Her athletic skills were equally intimidating. The way her body drew a perfect curve as she arched her back over the bar in a high jump mesmerized boys and girls alike, and the PE teacher had absolutely no clue how she broke a prefecture record with a simple, casual leap.

Well, her expression certainly did not seem casual. Homura always maintained a steely expression, and every glare and glance she had shot Madoka was nothing but outright hostility. And the weird conversation they had on their way to the nurse's office, too; Madoka just could not put everything together and make sense of it all.

"How strange is that?" She sighed as she played with her food in the tray. The food court of the mall was similar to any other, only that it was filled with students from different schools as they grab an after-school snack before they head home.

Sayaka was quite surprised at the revelation: "I thought she was one of those smart, pretty girls that are both well-refined and athletic, but she turns out to be a nutcase! Ugh, just how much of an impression does she want to leave on people? Is that what they call 'moe' these days?"

"You have got to stop reading shoujo manga and go out more!" Madoka chuckled lightly at Sayaka's overly dramatic display of pain and disgust. If Homura was trying to make an impression, she was doing it wrong. People make first impressions because they want others to like them. Homura was doing the direct opposite.

Maybe she did not want to be liked.

Or, maybe she just wanted to appear cool and aloof to gather more popularity. Madoka could not be sure.

"Madoka, are you sure this is the first time you met Homura?" Hitomi suggested.

"Hmph. Yeah, I suppose." Madoka really could not remember when and where she met Homura before that day. Well, there was that dream last night, but it was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

"What do you mean, 'I suppose'? Is there some whacky reason that you would answer 'yes' to that question?" Sayaka's ability to hit the nail right on the head with sheer luck alone never ceased to amaze Madoka. Telling them that she met Homura in a dream would certainly make her look like a nutcase, as well, but they are her friends, and friends listen to each other, no matter how weird it may be.

So Madoka told them.

Both Hitomi and Sayaka took a slurp from their drinks at the same time.

And then, both of them burst out laughing, Sayaka almost spraying Madoka with what she drank.

I knew they wouldn't believe me; Madoka sighed inside.

"You've… you've got to be… kidding me!" Each giggle from Sayaka poked at Madoka's heart, "Are you trying to ride her popularity wave and profit from it?"

"I'm completely serious! I'm really worried about it, too!" Some friends they were; Madoka pouted. "Stop laughing! No really, stop laughing!"

"So that's how it is! It's all because of your karma from your previous lives! You guys were lovers, and she leapt through time and space to meet you again!" Madoka wrinkled her nose: just how active an imagination did Sayaka have? That kind of thing was definitely not possible!

"Umm, just what kind of a dream did you have?" Madoka almost had tears out; Hitomi was so much better as a friend than Sayaka! At least Hitomi cared about her dream!

"I don't really remember, but I know it was a really weird dream." All Madoka remembered was Homura, and a weird white animal with rings around its ears and a fluffy tail.

And checker pattern; that was somehow very important.

"Then maybe you really _have_ met her before."

"Are you talking about something like a _déjà vu _but in a dream?" That would be completely freaky; Madoka thought.

"You might not consciously remember her, but your subconscious does, and it came out during your dream." Madoka was not well versed in psychology or psychoanalysis, though she knew of Sigmund Freud and the gist of his theories. Even so, she was pretty sure that she had never met Homura before.

Now that Madoka thought about it, how come Homura was acting as if she knew Madoka from a long time ago and Madoka somehow made her mad?

"Isn't that just way too convenient? What are the odds of that?" Maybe Sayaka was right; Madoka thought. She was probably thinking a little too much into it.

She had never met Homura before. She had never done anything wrong before. Maybe Homura just didn't like how she looked. Maybe Homura just didn't like her ribbons, thinking that it was too flashy.

Maybe the "not change yourself" part was referring to the ribbons and her style.

"You're probably right." Hitomi conceded. Madoka nodded and lightly shook her head; she was reading way too much into someone she just met. Only time would tell how well they would get along in class. Hopefully, she could make amends with Homura, and who knows? Maybe they would even become friends.

"Oh my, look at the time!" Hitomi flipped open her phone and gasped at the time. "I'm sorry; I've got to go."

"What is it this time? Piano lessons? Japanese dance?" It turned out that Hitomi had a tea ceremony class. Being dramatic as ever, Sayaka breathed a sigh of relief: "Phew! I'm so happy that I was born as a petit-bourgeois instead of in a big-shot family like you!"

Madoka had some heart-felt admiration for Hitomi. She was a perfect human being: refined, knowledgeable, sensitive, understanding, and cute. Madoka wished she had such qualities. Maybe if she did, Homura would not be so hostile to her.

"Oh, hey, Madoka, can we stop by the CD store on our way back?" Sayaka almost whispered as Madoka picked up her tray of half-eaten hot dog and soft drink.

Ah, it sure is to love someone; Madoka smiled. "Sure. It's for Kamijou, eh?" Although she had never seen him in person, Madoka was sure that this Kamijou would be one heck of a guy if Sayaka was so head over heels for him.

If only I could love and be loved like Sayaka; Madoka thought.

* * *

><p>Homura quietly walked through a dark corridor, a suppressed Ruger Mark II in hand.<p>

The corridor was unoccupied and unlit. Parts of the mall were sealed for renovation, and normally the crew would not work during business hours, lest the noise drive away customers and draw complaint.

It was a perfect spot for her hunt.

The creature scurried and hopped around piles of construction material like a rat. Homura knew that it could not outrun a bullet, no matter how nimble it was.

She put her prey in the glowing tritium sights of the pistol and squeezed the trigger.

The gun squeaked as it spat out a small bullet. Her target hopped to the right just as the bullet landed, kicking up a tiny cloud of dust.

Damn that rat! Homura clicked her tongue as she squeezed off several more rounds. She was sure that the squeaking of the gun would not make it past the walls, so no one would be disturbing her target practice.

Although she knew that the rat would not die from being shot, being torn, or any physical damage, seeing it bleed was somehow extremely satisfying for her.

It was the cause of her suffering.

It was the cause of her anguish.

It was the cause of everything.

And thus, it must be purged.

The rat screeched as it turned a corner. Homura had finally managed to hit it somewhere in the leg, producing that painful screech. However, it kept going.

Homura wondered if it tasted fear. No; if it had known what fear was… if it had known what emotions were, it would not have committed those crimes.

No. It was a heartless devil, coaxing girls into its service only to use them up later.

With these thoughts, Homura sprinted down the hallway.

She must catch it before it could meet Madoka.

It was the only way.

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane's senses tingled as he quickly hid in a shadowy alley. His psychic powers could not maintain his cloak and discern that tingle at the same time.<p>

He felt a tug on his mind, as if the Warp was reaching out to him.

Certainly, he was a psyker, one that was powerful enough for minor daemons to notice; but this was different. This was unlike anything he had felt before.

The tug felt clean. It was untarnished, unlike the majority of the Warp. Yet it inspired neither awe nor fear in him, as he had experienced in front of a shrine to the Emperor.

It was certainly refreshing. However, what could it possibly be?

The inquisitor scratched his hairless head, and traced the joint between his skull and his cranial plating. Being an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus, he had intimate knowledge of the Warp and its denizens, but such a tingling sensation at the back of his mind matched nothing he knew.

Where could it possibly come from?

He quickly brought out his data slate and established a link with _Invicta_. His location was a small dot on the neon-green display, sandwiched between two buildings indicated by boxes.

And the psychic ping came from a large structure to the north, likely to be used for commercial purposes; the locals called it a "mall".

Without hesitation, Inquisitor Kane re-engaged his cloak and made his way through the streets with all haste.

This psychic signal may hold a clue to how everyone on this planet was a weak psyker. And if it was a daemon, the Inquisitor was confident he could flee from it.

* * *

><p>Ranger Azrael was curious about the black-haired female.<p>

It seemed to take strange pleasure in firing primitive projectile weapons at a little animal.

Although he was certainly not psychically potent, he still felt a slight poke at the back of his mind. Eldars like him had varying degrees of psychic abilities, and most of them were more powerful than normal human psykers, and Azrael was no exception.

The small animal was calling for help. Psychically.

Did someone bind a daemon to a rat for fun? It certainly did not seem threatening.

Did the female do it, chase it and shoot at it for sport?

Azrael never understood these creatures. The _mon-keigh_ of the Imperium were most fanatical and most erratic, often doing things that even the Far Seer failed to see reason. They dominated the galaxy because they were the most numerous of the technologically advanced races, though Azrael had an incredible disdain for their technology.

The female—Homura, as it was called by others of its kind—made a sharp turn, sliding on the checkered floor. Azrael scoffed; amongst its kind, that manoeuver was impressive, but Azrael could do it without even thinking. He did have a couple hundred years of experience and practice over his target, after all.

There was another voice. It was young, and high-pitched.

It was another female, inside the hallway. Its hair was pink like its eyes, and bound into two ponytails with red ribbons. It was dressed in what seemed to be a student uniform, as his target was when it was in "school".

"I hear her." The Far Seer had full access to his senses. "Do not make a move. Your mission is to observe."

He mentally objected to the Far Seer's orders. Shooting both would save all of them a lot of trouble in reacquiring this planet, but the Far Seer had other plans. Azrael could only trust her; she could see more and clearer than him, and she was wise beyond her years.

"The pink-haired girl seemed to be the primary target." Azrael was surprised at the revelation. As far as he knew, he was operating alone; no Eldar was monitoring anyone in the city, except him.

"Don't worry. You still are operating alone." The Far Seer was not lying. Why would she lie to him? But she just referred to the pink-haired female as "the primary target". Would he be responsible for her execution, as well?

"Your trigger finger's itchy, isn't it? You have to hold that thought. It's not the right time to sate your bloodlust." Azrael licked his lips inside his helmet.

These _mon-keigh_ did not talk in High Gothic at all. Being a ranger, Azrael had learned both High and Low Gothic out of necessity; he could not eavesdrop on his targets otherwise. The languages were abrupt, brash, and in general inelegant, in comparison to the Eldar tongue.

What were they saying?

Azrael could only wonder as he listened in on their conversation.

* * *

><p>Out of all the times, now!<p>

Homura suppressed her frustration as she maintained her facial expression.

Madoka sat in front of her with eyes filled with surprise and fear.

And in her arms, that white rat lay panting. Homura had put several .22 bullets into it, and yet it still lived.

Resilient little son of a bitch!

Homura cursed as her grip around the gun tightened. She had wanted to prevent the rat from meeting Madoka. That was no longer possible.

The next best thing was to kill it and have Madoka witness what would happen.

Homura could not shoot it at that moment without endangering Madoka. Acute lead poisoning was not exactly beneficial to a human's health and well-being, after all. Her only way out, at this point, would be to further antagonize Madoka and intimidate her into releasing the rat, so she could shoot it, shoot it again, and shoot it again, and again, and again…

"Homura…?" Madoka made Homura's mood a little better. At least, she was willing to address Homura by her name.

"Let go of it." Homura tried her best to sound intimidating. If only that little bastard were harmless, she could be cuddling with Madoka at that moment!

"But… but he's hurt!" He? Homura's eyes squinted at the pronoun. It did not deserve to be addressed the same way as a human. It was not human. It was less than human.

Yet it continued to pretend to be injured. To pretend that it was hurt. To pretend that it was going to die. It was trying to use Madoka to save its worthless hide.

"No! Don't hurt him!" And it was working.

The creature disgusted Homura. "This is between it and me. It has nothing to do with you." It should not have anything to do with Madoka. And if Homura could have a say in it, it would not have anything to do with Madoka.

"But he called to me!" Of course he did. That devious little bastard! "I heard him calling for help!"

"Is that so." Evidently Madoka was not going to do as Homura wanted. At this range, would a .22 bullet fired from a suppressed Ruger Mark II stay in that little rat's skull? Homura silently did some math. The distance between her and the rat was about 10 meters. A .22 bullet at 10 meters would still be lethal to humans if hit in the right place. But heads—assuming it was a human's—could still reliably retain bullets as seen from autopsy of gunshot deaths.

She only prayed that she would not miss—!

A white blast of dust engulfed Homura.

A fire extinguisher—!

She had to shield her eyes and nose to prevent the dust from blinding her or choking her. From what she could see between her arms, it was the blue-haired girl, Miki Sayaka.

Damn her!

I was just about to save her, as well!

Foolish girl!

The white dust from the fire extinguisher severely restricted her visibility. Homura cursed in her mind as she spotted the empty container. With a spin-kick, she smashed it into the side wall.

Homura ran out of the dust cloud, but Madoka and Sayaka were no longer there.

Instead, the surroundings began to shift and change, into a psychedelic show of lights, butterflies, flowers, carriages, and the runes with which she was all too familiar.

Out of all the times… Now!

Homura cursed out loud.


	4. III: It Was Like I Saw Her in a Dream, 3

Madoka was dragged through the corridor as it changed.

With wide eyes she witnessed the walls, the floor and the ceiling shift into a psychedelic shade, showering the entire place with morphing light.

Sayaka was bombarding her with questions. What was Homura doing? Was she attacking people in some weird cosplay? What was the white animal in Madoka's arms? Is it just a stuffed animal?

Madoka did not know the answer to any of those questions. What she did know, though, was that the little creature needed her help.

And she knew for sure that something weird was happening.

Symbols started popping out from the walls. Butterflies, cotton balls, thorns and barbed wires formed a mash of unintelligible displays, like magazine cut-outs arranged by a deranged child.

What was going on?

"Huh? Where's the emergency exit?" Apparently Madoka was not hallucinating alone. Sayaka saw the same thing Madoka did: the surreal arrangement of images and items by an insane child. "Where are we?"

Madoka wanted to know the same thing. Where were they? What was this ever-changing place? Were they both somehow in the same dream?

Images and objects flew everywhere around them, too many for Madoka to count. They formed a barrage of symbols and meanings, too many for Madoka to recognize.

But the place had remained eerily quiet; only the constant low humming of insects surrounded them, a headache-inducing buzz that Madoka tried the hardest to ignore.

And then, a scream.

"Wait, someone's here!" Madoka yelled as she made a sharp turn.

* * *

><p>Kane knew he was going in the right direction, because from the same place that the psychic ping came from, there was then a constant but weak psychic anomaly that was radiating power. But maintaining his psychic cloak was extremely draining on a planet of nascent psykers; so draining, that the Inquisitor must stay his feet for a few minutes before he could proceed unnoticed.<p>

If that psychic ping was from a minor daemon and the emanation the ritual of possession, every second was then precious.

But Kane had other concerns. It was unlikely that he could stop the ritual even if he arrived at the site with all his haste; he would still end up fighting against a daemon instead of interrupting the ritual. In addition, proceeding faster would mean dropping his psychic cloak. A human with power-actuated joints and a fully autonomous prosthetic hand appearing in a crowd of people without knowledge of the Imperium would at least cause panic; in the worst case, he would attract the planet's police force or even the military to investigate him, resulting in even more delays and even endangering his efforts to bring this planet under Imperial control.

The Inquisition would not tolerate such delays.

* * *

><p>Cotton balls with moustaches.<p>

Those were the things that surrounded them with a haunting chant, a chant that would not feel out of place in any horror film.

They had butterflies as legs and feet, and their heads—cotton balls with a moustache—bobbed left and right as they danced around Madoka and Sayaka. Thorns sprouted around them, but strangely their growth seemed to be led by pairs of scissors, cutting and snapping as they flew around.

Madoka hugged Sayaka with her trembling arms, the small ball of soft warmth between the two girls.

She was scared; from what she could tell, Sayaka was, too: "You've got to be kidding me, right? I'm just having a bad dream or something, right, Madoka?"

What is this place?

What is going on?

The scissors made terrible snapping sounds as thorns wrapped around the two.

Each snap made Madoka wince. They were normal scissors that a tailor would use, but Madoka somehow knew that they were sharp enough to cut through flesh and bone.

The knowledge of that scared her even more. If one of them would fly toward them, she would not even be able to do anything to stop it.

All of a sudden, the balls of cotton grew eyes in the form of black ink blots, and mouths: diseased gray lips with rotting, moldy teeth. Every time a mouth opened to utter a sound, a puff of green spores burst forth; with tens of them all around Madoka, they soon filled the air with a leafy green haze.

The metallic clangs from the scissors got more and more clamorous. The mesh of thorns become thicker and thicker, and the disgusting balls of dirty cotton danced closer and closer to Madoka and Sayaka.

Someone, save us!

Madoka screamed inside as she whimpered and hugged Sayaka harder. She was called here to save the white ball of fur, but she was then another damsel in distress, waiting to be saved.

* * *

><p>Homura dashed forth as fast as she could.<p>

The timing of the Witch Gertrud's barrier could not have come at a worse time. She was inches away from removing Madoka from that white rat, but the Witch's interference added yet more complexity to an already messy situation. Searching for Sayaka and Madoka in this abandoned section of the mall was already difficult; the addition of a barrier made it all but impossible.

Her soul gem slightly trembled; it was a vibration with which she was all too familiar.

Another Magical Girl was in this area.

No doubt, she was here to hunt this Witch; Homura thought. And given the time frame of this occurrence, there was only one candidate under Homura's consideration.

Homura only silently prayed that the other Magical Girl would make it in time.

* * *

><p>Ranger Azrael dashed almost beside his target.<p>

He was confident that the creature would not be aware of his presence. After all, he was in every way, shape or form superior to these lumbering and stupid beasts, no matter how graceful or agile they may be compared to their kindred.

But his target was not of the utmost importance at the moment. His target was moving towards a weak but certainly unique psychic emanation, one that even a much-traveled ranger such as he had not seen before.

The Far Seer was similarly troubled. The telepathic link between him and his taskmaster was such that he could also feel the Far Seer's emotions, and they suggested one of concern, even when they also suggested that the Far Seer had expected such a turn of events.

Even the most experienced Seers could not see everything, Azrael mused silently as he kept his pace just slightly behind his target. It was then more than imperative for him—as the sole Eldar operator within the area—to get to the source of the emanation and ascertain its nature.

If it were a new creation of the Great Enemy, their situation would become much, much more complicated.

* * *

><p>The clattering of chains surrounded them as the dissonant choir of snapping metal and howling laughter screeched to a halt. Even the green moldy mist in the air disappeared with a blast of air.<p>

"What is this?"

Madoka opened her eyes and watched with amazement as the chains formed two circles around them, under which the flower-patterned floor glowed with soft yellow light.

"Ah, that was close."

A voice—strangely human, and strangely comforting—pierced the chaos and flowed into Madoka's ears like a smooth string of heavenly notes. Faintly, she could hear footsteps echoing through the barrier.

"But it's all right now."

Someone was here to save them!

Madoka's blinks squeezed out tears of relief as she let out a squeal of joy. She thought her life would end for sure, but someone had come to their rescue at last!

"You must be scared. I'm sorry that I've come so late." The soft voice apologized as her figure emerged. To both Madoka's and Sayaka's surprise, she donned the same uniform as they did—beige blouse, red butterfly bow, plaid pleated skirt and white shoes—only that her body curves were much more accentuated than anyone they had known, accentuated further by dark tights that ran up into her skirt. She had golden-yellow blond hair, with two locks twisted into drill shapes on the side, anchored to her head with a flower-shaped hairpin. In her hand, a small intricate gem glowed with soft yellow light like that of the afternoon sun.

She was the most beautiful woman that Madoka had ever seen in her entire life.

Sayaka's jaw slacked a little as well. Madoka suspected that Sayaka was thinking the same thing as she was; neither of them expected their savior to be such a beauty.

"Oh, you saved Kyubey, didn't you? Thank you so much. He was a dear friend of mine."

"He called for me." Madoka exclaimed as she glanced down at it. Through this entire ordeal, Kyubey was sleeping peacefully, seemingly without a care in the world. "I heard him in my mind."

"Is that so?" The girl's voice was as sweet as her appearance. Her similarly golden eyes flickered as the light pattern on the floor shifted around, making it hard for Madoka to read her expression, but Madoka was sure that she was truly simply grateful. "For you to be wearing that uniform, you two must also go to Mitakihara High. Are you second-year students?"

Her manner of speech was indicative of her upbringing. She must have been brought up in a well-endowed family, Madoka fantasized; maybe she was even from one of the politically powerful houses?

"Who are you?" Sayaka stammered.

"Oh, that's right; I suppose I should introduce myself first." The clanks of metal resumed as thorny vines threatened to overwhelm what Madoka assumed to be a protective "enchantment" around this area. "But before that…"

She spun around on one foot like a ballerina and drew a small circle with her other foot, tossing her ornate gem into the air as the circle was completed. With an intricate series of footsteps, she caught the gem in her palms, facing outward.

Even her movements were as graceful as that of a princess, Madoka thought.

"Would you kindly allow me to take care of a little business first?"

Iridescent rays exploded from the gem as its light grew more intense. Madoka and Sayaka were both blinded moments after, their skirts fluttering in a chaotic burst of wind.

A blast of air forced both of them to shield their faces. When the chaotic streams of air finally ceased and they were able to open their eyes again, they saw their savior standing on top of a pile of symbols.

Her outfit had changed from the Mitakihara uniform into one that Madoka could only describe as mesmerizing. She donned a brown cap with a large five-petal flower ornament, which pinned a white fluffy tail to the side. Her uniform top somehow transformed into a white blouse with puffed shoulders, detached sleeves and fingerless gloves, accentuating her already impressive assets, supported by a black half-corset. The ordinary plaid pleated skirt changed into a gold short skirt, seemingly made out of satin, and her tights switched to gold-striped black thigh-highs, with leg guards and a pair of brown leather shoes.

But there was no time for Madoka to remain slack-jawed as she and Sayaka both were. Mustached cotton balls rolled and whirled around her, seemingly eager to attack.

Madoka was concerned for her safety, until a simple hand motion from her savior summoned what seemed to be an immense number of percussion-locked rifled muskets into the air. Each one of them was ornate, too. They had silver bodies; the stock under the barrel was ebony and carefully engraved with silver, while the shoulder stock was ivory white with a large ornate cross on each side.

With a grunt, her hand drew a graceful arc in the air.

There must have been thousands of those guns; Madoka thought as all of them fired simultaneously, creating a wall of bullets as brilliant as the starry night. Each of them managed to find home in one of the cotton balls, lighting them ablaze and making them explode one by one. When she landed, only smoke and fire remained.

"W-Wow…" Madoka was left in search of words to describe what she just saw. It was ass-kicking the degree of which she had only seen in prime-time anime shows, and she was certain that was understating it.

And then everything returned to normal.

The smoke was gone. The mesh of symbols was gone. Everything was normal again.

* * *

><p>Homura gingerly landed on top of a stack of crates, covered with tarp.<p>

It was as she feared and expected. Tomoe Mami had appeared, dressed in her combat uniform. To Homura's relief, she made it in time and drove Gertrud off before it could hurt Madoka; but her appearance was not at all comforting.

This Mami would—like every version of Mami that Homura had encountered before—fiercely protect Madoka and Sayaka. Given her relationship with that white rat, it was likely that she would try and get both Madoka and Sayaka to become Magical Girls.

In a sense, Mami was every bit as dangerous as the white rat.

"The Witch ran away." Thanks for stating that, Madame Obvious; Homura sighed inside. "If you want to take it down, you'll need to chase after it quickly."

"I'll give the witch to you this time." Blissfully ignorant of the truth and still condescending like an arrogant princess; Homura could do nothing other than emit a quiet sigh.

"I have no interest in that Witch." What I had interest in was White, Soft and Evil right there in Madoka's arms; Homura shook her head slightly. I wish I could be there right now.

"You don't seem to understand what's going on here." Actually, I understand it perfectly, Tomoe Mami; Homura thought. She was having trouble maintaining her poker face and that slightly annoyed stare. "I'm letting you go."

A violent confrontation here would, in no way, shape or form, be beneficial to her cause except to expend the precious magical power of both girls, Homura surmised; but if she wanted to resolve this with no violence, the only way would be to have one party back down voluntarily.

And to do that, she had to win a staring contest against Mami, apparently.

"I think we would all like to avoid any unnecessary trouble." Even Mami's way of requesting her to back down was indirect and irritating. Homura shifted her eyes towards Madoka and Sayaka; Madoka had a look of concern on her, while Sayaka's hostility was plain as daylight in her eyes.

Staring back at Mami, Homura wanted to erase that smirk off of Mami's face with a punch. At the moment, resorting to violence would only worsen her impression on Madoka and Sayaka, and expend energy fruitlessly, because Mami could simply buy time while Sayaka and Madoka run off to somewhere she could not find.

No, that was not the desired outcome; Homura thought. The frustration that her first contact with Madoka this time around ended in failure hit her like a hammer as she turned around.

But it could not be helped, she told herself.

It could not be helped.

Hang in there, Madoka…

I swear it on my life that I will protect you this time.

* * *

><p>Azrael was surprised to find the golden-haired <em>mon-keigh<em> was staring at him in his eye as it spoke.

So surprised, in fact, that he followed his Far Seer's order to remain at that location without hearing it.

What was it saying? Could it just be a happenstance that its eyes met with his? Or would it be that the little mongrel had realized his presence?

Azrael wanted to believe that it was simply a chance, but its eyes were so convincing that he must face the other possibility.

That his camouflage was not perfect against these lowly creatures. That he, of all people, was discovered by a _mon-keigh _child. While not moving and not attacking.

Azrael watched as Mami's combat uniform disappeared into a small gem, and his mind nearly froze.

A soul stone.

The psychic emanations from that intricate gem were way too similar to a soul stone; a used one, at that, one that contained the spirit of a noble Eldar warrior.

Except that the creature who owned the stone was not even Eldar.

How was it able to utilize the power contained within such a sacred artifact?

How was a lowly _mon-keigh_, whose technology was even more primitive than that of those other miserable creatures and whose culture was not much more advanced, able to capture and use an Eldar soul stone?

Strangely, the Far Seer seemed to have foreseen this as well. Azrael sensed no surprise from her due to this revelation, during the time which the golden-haired creature _healed_ the white rat with the soul stone.

"… Follow them."

The Far Seer ordered, at last.

"Find out where this Tomoe Mami resides. We would have quite a few questions for her."

You and me both, Azrael thought as he followed the leisurely footsteps of his targets; you and me both, Far Seer.

* * *

><p>At the place where the psychic emanations came from, Inquisitor Kane found only an empty hallway.<p>

Seeing and sensing no one around, he dropped his psychic cloak. Quickly and carefully checking the walls, ceilings and floors for signs of Chaos ritual patterns, he was perplexed when he could not find any sign of any Chaos ritual that he knew.

But he could feel several psykers' residual psychic scents in this area.

There were two that corresponded to that of stronger human psykers. So, after all, there were some people with more elevated level of power on this planet, the Inquisitor induced.

There were two that corresponded to that of normal humans on this planet. One of them was strange, for some reason. At this moment, the Inquisitor could not discern who or what could cause this level of deviation; besides, the scents were fading quickly and he had no time to examine them in detail.

There was one that slightly resembled a daemon's scent, yet it lacked the usual heaviness that came from the corruption within a daemon. Maybe it was a new species of Warp beings, arisen from the gestalt psychic field of the planet or even birthed within the Warp Storm itself; the Inquisitor could not decide.

And then there was the scent of an Eldar.

How did the Eldar get here? The Inquisitor was quite puzzled. The Eldar never travel through the Warp, so there must be a dormant Webway gate on this planet…

He quickly brought out his data slate and sent instructions for the crew of the _Invicta_ to bring its most powerful sensors to bear on the planet. The scan would take a while, but it would surely reveal any cloaked Eldar structures on the planet; the Inquisitor thought.

And meanwhile, he needed more information about the extent of both Chaos filth and Eldar infestation on this planet.

Nothing—not xenos, and certainly not heretics—would stop him in claiming this planet for the Emperor.


	5. IV: I Thought That Was Really Nice, 1

**Author's Notes:**

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* * *

><p>"<em>Shitsurei itashimasu…<em>"

Mami lived in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript apartment block. Madoka thought that for someone with such good upbringing, Mami would be living in an old European-style mansion with maids and butlers, instead of an apartment like common people.

Still, she was astounded at Mami's room decorations. "What a beautiful room!" She exclaimed, as Sayaka let slip a yelp of amazement.

It was, indeed, a beautiful room. Designer furniture lined the walls. Her study area was populated by a simple white bookshelf filled with books of all kinds, and a white desk. Even the lamp covers were apparently hand-picked, as each one was different, yet they combined well to show the character of the resident there.

One thing Madoka noticed was that, predominantly, large huggable pillows and cushions littered the room.

Miss Mami must really like soft things, Madoka mused.

"I live alone, so please make yourself at home. I didn't really have time to get ready for guests, though."

She lives alone? That's amazing! I wonder if I could take care of myself as well if I were alone; Madoka thought.

They sat down around a stylish yet unique triangular-shaped tea table made of glass. Madoka felt bad that Mami had to brew tea and cut cake for them, but she served both in minutes.

She must be really good at doing this, serving tea and sweets, Madoka thought.

"Miss Mami, this is really good!" The mango-flavored cheesecake melted in Madoka's mouth, much to her delight. She had no idea how cheesecakes could be this delicious.

Sayaka agreed; she was hungrily cutting and devouring piece after piece of cake with her fork.

"Thank you." Mami's smile was sweet and warm. "Since you've been chosen by Kyubey, this is your problem as well, now. I thought a decent explanation of what has been going on would be in order."

True; Madoka thought as she sipped her coffee. What was that weird space? How could Mami change her wardrobe in a blink of an eye?

What is that gem she has?

"This is a Soul Gem." Mami held that ornate jewelry piece in her hand. It was a huge piece of orange-yellow topaz, shaped like an egg. The bracket that mounted the gem was made of polished bronze, with ribbons raining down from a flower-shaped ornament on top of the gem. The base has a circle at the center, sliced into eight pieces like a round cake, and wheat branches lined the edge of the base mount.

"It's a jewel created by the girls chosen by Kyubey. It is the proof of their contract."

If I make a contract with Kyubey, would I get a gem like this? What would my gem look like? Madoka fantasized as she stared into the bright topaz. It glimmered in the evening sun, making its look all the more mesmerizing.

"It identifies us as a Magical Girl. It is the source of our magic power."

"What do you mean by contract?" Sayaka asked.

"I'll grant each of you one wish. It can be whatever you want."

A wish?

Madoka snapped out of her Soul-Gem-induced trance.

"Huh? Seriously!" Sayaka blurted out loud. It was as surprising for her as it was for Madoka, it appears.

"Anything you want. No matter the miracle, I can make it happen." The small animal said cheerfully, with as much of a smile as its face could manage.

Isn't that convenient? Imagine the things I could wish for! I could help a lot of people with it! Madoka mused.

Sayaka, however, was much more materialistic: "Gold, silver, priceless treasures! Or I could wish for immortality! Or even a Chinese Imperial Feast!"

"But a Soul Gem is produced in exchange." The creature continued in a much more serious tone, "Those that receive these jewels are charged to fight Witches."

"Witches?" The ones responsible for the weird space earlier? "Are they different from Magical Girls?"

"If Magical Girls are born from positive desires like wishes, Witches are then born from negative desires like curses." The animal explained, "Magical Girls spread hope, where Witches spread despair. To make it worse, Witches can't be seen by normal humans. They are seeds of catastrophe, bearing extreme doubt, anger, sadness, and hate."

"The curse of a witch is almost always behind unexplained suicides and murders," Mami added, "They become a formless evil and eat away at humans from the inside out."

If they're so dangerous, how come no one ever knows about them?

Madoka and Sayaka were thinking about the same thing. They never saw "Witch Attack Causes Ten Suicides Today, News at Eleven" on TV, and no newspaper would ever report something like that.

"That's because Witches hide within barriers and never show themselves to people." Of course. If they want to spread hate, anger and despair, it would be much easier to do it while they're hidden, so that they don't draw attention to themselves and cause the military and police to respond. "The labyrinth-like area you wandered into before was one of their barriers."

Madoka tilted her head as she looked at the white animal.

"That was pretty close. Humans swallowed up by those barriers usually don't make it out alive." Madoka was just about to ask the creature a question, when Mami interrupted.

Mami was fighting something that dangerous?

"That's right. I put my life on the line." She nodded, grim determination burning bright in her eyes. The glint from her Soul Gem flickered and became a bit brighter. "That's why I think you two should weigh your options carefully.

"Any desire you have can be granted, now that you're Kyubey's chosen." She continued, as Madoka and Sayaka listened intently. "But the price of it could very well be your life."

Madoka winced at Mami's words.

What wish would she give her life to realize? World peace? Everyone living happily ever after? But what benefit would those net her? What could she possibly gain from it?

No, no, no; Madoka shook her head slightly. She was being too selfish, she thought.

"That's a really hard choice…" Sayaka exclaimed.

Really, it is; Madoka agreed silently. Would she put her life on the line for anything? Anyone? Or would she be better off wishing for something selfish and fight only to protect her family and friends?

Hard choices she would make, decisions too difficult for a high school student.

"So, that's why I have a proposal." Mami continued with her sweet and cheerful voice, a stark contrast to the mood between Sayaka and Madoka, "Why don't you two come along with me while I take out some Witches?"

Is that even possible?

"It'll be better for you to see through your own eyes what it means to make a contract and fight Witches," she added, "I want you to be aware of all the options before you make a decision."

What a considerate _senpai_!

"Once that's done, you can think about whether or not you have a wish so great that you'd risk putting yourself in danger."

It was then that Madoka noticed a little bit of darkness—a cloud-like murkiness that diminished the jewel's brilliance—at the top of Mami's Soul Gem. It was a little strange that such a beautiful gem would have something like that marring its appearance, but Madoka did not ask questions.

Rather, Homura was more on her mind.

"Is that transfer student a... a Magical Girl, as well?" Sayaka asked the question Madoka meant to ask Mami. "Just like you, Miss Mami?"

"That's right." The answer did not surprise Madoka in the least. Other than Magical Girls and those who Kyubey chose to approach, who would have a grudge against such a cute furry animal? "She definitely is a magical girl, and it looks like she was quite powerful."

There were differences in power between Magical Girls? Madoka thought: if Magical Girls are said to be powered by wishes, maybe... just maybe, the power level of the Magical Girl is related to the difficulty to realize the wish?

"But then, shouldn't she be a force of good, fighting Witches with you, rather than fighting with you over a Witch?" Sayaka asekd, "Why did she attack Madoka, all of a sudden?"

No. Her target was not me. Her target...

"She was trying to stop me." Kyubey took the words out of Madoka's mouth, "I imagine she was trying to stop the creation of new Magical Girls."

"Huh? Why? Wouldn't it be better if there are more Magical Girls to take on Witches? Wouldn't that make your jobs easier?"

"That's not necessarily the case, though." Mami explained, "Normally, it's more likely for Magical Girls to become competitive instead of cooperative when more than one of them are operating in an area."

Maybe... maybe there's some kind of reward after a Witch is defeated? A valuable incentive, perhaps, for Magical Girls to expend their energy to fight Witches?

Madoka's guess was not that far off: "A Magical Girl gets a certain compensation when she takes out a Witch. So, Magical Girls will race to be the first one to get it, and sometimes even fight over it."

"So basically, she guessed in advance that Kyubey would be meeting Madoka here, and she's been going after her since this morning!"

That certainly was a possibility, Madoka winced, but what of the warning that she gave me? What about the fact that when I got to where Kyubey was, he was already heavily wounded and Homura was chasing after him?

"Probably that's what happened." But it was too much of a faulty explanation for everything, Madoka decided.

There must be something more behind Homura's actions, she thought; there has to be.

* * *

><p>The pink-haired and blue-haired <em>mon-keigh<em> whelps left the room, leaving Azrael at the entrance to the small habitation unit.

Tracking them down was easy. They never moved too fast or too slow, and their routes were predictable. It was as if the leading blond _mon-keigh_ wanted them to be followed.

How did it recognize me?

Azrael struggled to reconcile himself with the facts.

"Has your pride been damaged, Pathfinder?" The Far Seer's voice was almost mockingly harsh. "Has it occurred to you that these humans may be the next custodians of the galaxy?"

No, Azrael rebuffed adamantly, these lumbering beasts with embarrassing intelligence could not possibly be the inheritor of the universe! Only they, the Eldar, the glorious creation of the Gods, are fit to rule over the cosmos, like they did thousands of years ago.

The Far Seer may be wise in her counsel, but she is simply deluded in her view towards these _mon-keigh_ beasts. Had she already forgotten about the invasion to their beloved Craftworld merely a handful of centuries ago?

"Come in, please." The blond female called. Azrael did not understand what it said, but he assumed that it was inviting him in, judging from the tone of its voice.

He slowly walked into the room, his rifle at his shoulders, before he dropped his optical camouflage.

Mami took a final sip of her coffee and stared at her visitor. The man was wrapped in a brown long coat, with a dark blue cloak on his back. His head was enclosed in a menacing yellow helmet with blue face plates and red eye lenses, and he was holding a rifle with curved furniture.

Mami did not flinch as she stared down the barrel of the rifle. She did not believe that the stranger would shoot her. After all, if he wanted to, there had been plenty of chances for him to do so during her trip back to her apartment.

Azrael's finger wrapped around the trigger of his rifle as the female found his eyes by tracing down his rifle with its eyes. Was the creature oblivious to its fate, or was it foolish enough to believe that he would not pull the trigger?

"You shall not harm her, Pathfinder." The Far Seer commanded, much to Azrael's chagrin. "Until we can ascertain how she came into possession of a Waystone, she shall not be harmed."

Indeed, but that did not mean that Azrael must put down his rifle and show the creature that he was friendly. He was not. Neither would the Far Seer, if the creature obtained the Waystone with intent of corrupting it for Chaos.

But there was another problem. The creature spoke not Gothic, but some language that Azrael could not comprehend. How could they get information out of it, if it spoke a tongue only fit for beasts? Not that Gothic was fit for intelligent creatures in the first place.

"I shall attempt to communicate with her telepathically." The Far Seer whispered in Azrael's mind. "However, I will need you to connect with her mind. She will resist. Can I count on you to keep her stationary?"

Azrael simply shifted his rifle to point at Mami's leg.

"Pain will only disrupt her focus and make my job harder, Pathfinder."

"You did not say that I could not use forceful methods, Far Seer."

"Maybe I should be more specific on my orders next time, and perhaps accompany each of them with a lash." The Far Seer quipped as Azrael smiled a little inside. "Now, take off your helmet."

Mami almost forgot to breathe when she saw the face behind the helmet. The towering man was incredibly young, with no wrinkles on his face. His skin was extremely pale, almost unnaturally so. He had no hair; Mami assumed that it was because he had to wear that helmet for prolonged periods of time. His facial features were just right, with a pair of emerald eyes glinting with fierce light, and his thin lips pursed tight. His ears were just the slightest of pointy, reminding Mami of elves in fantasy worlds—he was not human, if only subtly.

Azrael took another step towards Mami, keeping his rifle trained on her head. Mami did not react, as Azrael laid his left hand on her forehead while keeping his rifle steady with his right hand.

"Good. Very good." The Far Seer whispered. "The conduit is established, and the connection may begin. Relax, Azrael; relax and let me through."

Azrael's eyes gave off a brilliantly green glow as Mami's Soul Gem showered the entire room with yellow light.

* * *

><p>It hurts... it hurts so much...<p>

Someone, save me...

I don't want to die...

Oh, God, it burns... my legs, they burn...

Help me...

Please...

Anyone...

It hurts so bad...

I can't move...

Someone...

Anyone...

Please, help me...

"Do you want to live?"

I don't want to die...

"I'll make any one of your wish reality, so make a contract with me and become a Magical Girl!"

Please... I don't want to die alone... save... me...

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane hid inside an empty storage warehouse, surrounded by dry fish.<p>

The smell of salted fish was suffocating to him. By the time he would get out, his uniform would smell like preserved seafood, something he hated with a passion. But this was the only place discreet enough for him to communicate with the _Invicta_ without worrying about being seen or heard, as an urgent communication request came in while he was navigating the bustling streets in the city center.

"Inquisitor," the Captain was on the other side of the line. His head was projected into a neon green hologram floating above Kane's data slate, "we have completed a deep scan of the planet, as you requested."

"It's about time." The Inquisitor did not hide his impatience. The _Invicta_ may be an honored creation of the Machine God, but its sensors left much to be desired. "What has the _Invicta_ found?"

"We found three Titan-sized Webway gates, hidden on three separate continents of the planet."

Three. Titan-sized. Webway gates. Three!

This planet must have held strategic importance to the Eldar before it became engulfed in the Warp storm; otherwise, there would not be this many ancient Webway gates on a single planet. As far as the Inquisitor's limited knowledge of the elusive Xeno species could tell, the Eldar had already lost the capability to manufacture new Webway gates large enough to accommodate their blasphemous Titans.

If he could destroy even one of them, it would be an irrecoverable loss to the Xeno and an important victory for the Imperium.

But what could he do? He has only a squad of Black Templars and about a regiment of Imperial Storm Troopers with Chimera support on board the _Invicta_, and the Eldar may have already erected fortifications around those gates.

He would be helpless without some armor support.

"Are those gates active, Captain?"

"Not as far as we could tell, sir. The Warp storm may have affected their functions as well."

We don't know enough about these damned Xeno artifacts to say with any certainty, and it was all because those damn techpriests' refusal to analyze Xeno tech! Techno-heresy be damned; the Inquisitor complained silently. Still, a lowly Inquisitor like him could not possibly think of affecting the opinions of the Mechanicus.

He would just have to make do with what he had: "Thank you, Captain. Put me through with Sergeant Dividus."

"Dividus." The Black Templar sergeant answered with his suit's vox bead. "You need us, Inquisitor?"

"Indeed." Kane rather liked the no-nonsense manner of the sergeant. Dividus and his squad had been with him for more than four decades; together, they had stamped out many a nascent Chaos cult, and removed a dozen tainted planetary governors from their stations.

The work was not exciting by any measure compared to Dividus' actions on Cadia during the last Black Crusade, but he did not complain much, and that was one of the reasons why the Inquisitor liked him.

"We have evidence of Eldar presence on this planet. I need you and your men to scout out the closest Webway gate to my position and report back on me."

"Understood."

"Do not engage the enemy unless they engage you. I have evaluated the situation and I place stealth above Xeno extermination in value."

"Explain."

"I am tracking a strange psychic presence, one that may correspond to a nascent host to a Greater Daemon. If we are discovered before our reinforcements arrive, we will no longer able to cleanse this planet. Our priority objective right now is gather intelligence and ascertain the nature of that presence; we will deal with it once that objective is complete."

"Understood."

The Inquisitor nodded. He did not wish to stay in this stinking place for any longer than he had to. Flicking his fingers, he sent a set of coordinates to Dividus' power armor directly: "You will drop insert here, under the cover of the night. We do not want to alert the local populace of our presence just yet. The Webway gate should be in the proximity; Captain Miroslav will have the exact coordinates. Ave Imperator, Sergeant—!"

The Inquisitor's brain seized up. It was a brief flash of psychic light, but he had certainly felt something unique—something that he had not felt since that trip to the Shrine World of Macharius.

It was warm, pure, and soothing.

Without a moment's hesitation, the Inquisitor re-cloaked himself and exited the storage warehouse.

What could this light possibly be?

* * *

><p>"I have failed yet again today."<p>

Homura sank her body into a tub full of hot water, before turning off the light inside the bathroom. Even inside the bathtub, she wore the small necklace around her. Only at times like these, when she was truly alone, could the entity inside the necklace converse with her.

He had been her only support through this trying time. He had been a pillar of sanity and a beacon of hope for her, even as she kept her eyes trained on her ultimate goal.

"Nay, child, you have not failed." The necklace glowed with soft golden light inside utter darkness. Her Soul Gem—worn on her right middle finger—gave off purple light as it responded to the necklace. "Under that situation, there was nothing you could do."

"I could have been more decisive and put a bullet through that creature."

Homura let out a small sigh. She was a hair's breadth away from ridding Madoka of that rat at least for now, and yet she could not bring herself to pull the trigger.

Because, if she had pulled the trigger, there was a chance, then, she would have hurt Madoka. And that was not something she would tolerate.

"I wonder, if I can't feel any of these emotions any more... would it make my life easier?" If I feel nothing, would my days be brighter? Would my burden lighten? Would my wounds slowly heal?

"Child," The necklace's voice rang in her mind, "you are human. You possess emotions and concerns for her. This is not a weakness; it is your strength. It sets you apart from these... Witches, because you possess these human emotions and you are in control of them."

"But what good are they to me, when every single day of my life is torture?" When every single day of my life reminds me how much of a failure I am? How useless a human I am? How... how fragile I could be...?

"Child, to live is to struggle, to endure. To suffer is to be strong. To feel is to be human. Though it pains me that these emotions feed the Great Corruption, I cannot make humanity abandon the only trait that identifies us as human, because it would make us no better than beasts and monsters."

"When I made my wish, I... I never wanted this to happen... I never..."

Homura curled up inside the bathtub. Though the water was warm to her skin, she could not help but feel shivers engulf her.

She hugged around the necklace's light. It warmed her chest and her heart.

"Father... help me..."

"Stay strong, my daughter." The necklace soothed, "Soon, very soon, you shall be released from this terrible burden."

"Dad..."

"Stay faithful as you always have, my daughter. I shall watch over you. I promise."


	6. V: I Thought That Was Really Nice, 2

"Say, Mama?"

Madoka remembered the conversation she had with Mami and Kyubey last night.

What wish would she make, if she were to become a Magical Girl?

What would be worth putting her life on the line for?

"Yeah?"

"What if... What if you could have a wish granted with magic? Like, any wish... What would you—"

"I'd get rid of a couple of those damn board members."

Her mother, Kaname Junko, answered in no uncertain terms.

Of course, this wouldn't be what my mother would trade her life for; Madoka reassured herself. She had hidden that small detail from her mother, for if she revealed it, Mom would certainly get suspicious.

Unexpectedly, the question induced a long-winded rant from her mother, something that Madoka did not see often. Her mother had always been her idol: she was strong, beautiful, and most importantly of all, confident. Madoka wished that she had some of that confidence from her mother; maybe with some of that, she would not have trouble making friends with Homura...

But her question remained unanswered. What would she wish for, if the price of that wish is her life?

What would be important enough that she would be willing to die to see accomplished?

She could not pitch the question to Hitomi. Even though Hitomi could not see Kyubey, the strange reactions from Sayaka this morning upon seeing Kyubey on Madoka's shoulder pushed her into a Sayaka-esque soliloquy that ended with "two girls shouldn't do such things! That's called 'forbidden love'" as she ran off without her schoolbag.

Even if she tossed that question to Hitomi, Madoka doubted that she would get any decent advice. A girl with the upbringing like Hitomi would have similar experiences with both Madoka and Sayaka, anyway, and that would cause her to have basically the same perspective as them.

"You sure it's okay to come to school with us like nothing's ever happened? I told you that the girl from yesterday transferred into this class, right?" Sayaka's telepathic questioning almost startled Madoka out of her thoughts. Hitomi was still pouting behind Sayaka; it looked like the duo would have to do some serious apologizing to Hitomi in terms of ice cream and snacks later. "Wasn't she trying to kill ya?"

"I think coming to school is actually safer. Mami's here, too." Kyubey answered without a worry in the world.

"Mami's a third year, though, so her class is kind of far from here." I wonder if distance would be an issue with a Magical Girl? Madoka thought.

"There's no problem. I can hear everything you're saying."

Wait, what the…

"We're still in range of telepathic communication with this kind of distance." Kyubey explained helpfully.

If Miss Mami can hear me, then I must…

"Uh, um, good morning!" Madoka blurted out loud, drawing a severe stare from Hitomi. There would be a lot more explaining to Hitomi after this, she thought to herself.

"I'm watching over all of you, so don't worry about it! Besides, I'm sure she wouldn't attack anyone in public."

Mami's words put Madoka a little bit at ease. If that's the case, she and Sayaka should stick to populated areas to avoid Homura attacking them.

"Well, then, that's good… damn, speak of the Devil…"

As the psychic conversation was going on, Homura had entered the classroom.

For reasons Madoka could not fathom, as soon as Homura entered the room and took a seat, the entire classroom's noise level died down by about fifty per cent. Sayaka tensed up visibly as Homura entered the room, her hands curling up into fists and rattled the top of the desk as Homura took her seat.

Madoka winced as Homura tilted her head back to stare at her. Why is she so hostile to me? What did I ever do to her?

"Don't worry about it, Madoka!" Sayaka shot a hostile look back at Homura while she comforted Madoka telepathically, "If she tries to do something, I'll punch her in the face for ya! Miss Mami's here for ya, too!"

"That's right! Even if Miss Miki can't be of use, I'll be here, so don't worry about it!"

"Don't say that I'm useless!"

* * *

><p>Far Seer Kirahla finally opened her eyes at the end of her meditation.<p>

Rather, she had finally severed her connection with Azrael, handing the job of reining him in to one of her warlocks.

The revelation from the _mon-keigh _Tomoe Mami was surprising, indeed. It appeared that the small white creature to which she referred as "Kyubey" was able to create objects similar to Waystones, through methods unknown even to her.

If the Craftworlds were able to utilize this technology, it would once again revitalize the supply of Waystones to the Eldar. The perilous trips to the Crone Worlds would never again be necessary, and the Craftworlds may even prosper with it.

However, the manner through which the so-called "Soul Gems" were created disturbed her deeply. The process resembled the loss of an Eldar spirit to the Great Devourer a little too much for her comfort.

But it was no time to speculate on that, Kirahla decided, for there were some more urgent matters to which she must attend.

She had brought in but one small expeditionary force, consisting of not more than a squad of Howling Banshees, two squads of Guardians, a choir of Bonesingers, a pair of Warp Spiders, and a small trio of Warlock bodyguards.

The forces of Craftworld Alaitoc were known for its wide use of Rangers, and this expeditionary force was no exception: Kirahla had called on the service of two dozen rangers, in addition to Pathfinder Azrael. Most of them were scattered around the war camp at the base of the ancient Webway gate outside Mitakihara, providing perimeter picket line against potential invaders.

Kirahla let out a small sigh as she stood up with a grunt. She had remained stationary like this for a little longer than two days, and both her body and her mind were exhausted.

Having Azrael on her force was hardly by choice. All of the Craftworld's most seasoned Pathfinders were either out on missions with larger warhosts, or too distant to be recalled within the timeframe. Furthermore, the Warp storm had somehow disrupted the mechanism of this ancient Webway gate, becoming disabled just as the Far Seer's forces passed through to this planet.

They were cut off from the rest of the galaxy. If Kirahla could have chosen a less racially discriminating Pathfinder, she would have, but fate had its own ideas. The only solution to that, at the moment, was to have herself or one of her warlocks keep a tight leash on Azrael, in order to prevent him from going on a shooting spree. He could kill everyone in the city of Mitakihara undetected within a month.

"Far Seer," her accompanying warlock passed her a small gem slate, "One of our Rangers reports sightings of _mon-keigh_ Space Marines along our borders."

Yes, the Space Marines. They thought that their insertion was subtle, but the lights from their drop pods were visible to Kirahla even when her eyes were closed. That dog of their blasted Inquisition was certainly trying to make her time difficult.

Kirahla put her palm over a small gem on the slate and established a direct mental link with the reporting Ranger: "It is I, Kirahla."

"Far Seer," The Ranger reported with a small whisper, "I have contact with a squad of _mon-keigh_ Space Marines moving through the forest."

"Have you ascertained their organization, numbers, and equipment?" Of course he had, but Kirahla had to ask, just to be certain.

"They appear to be of the Black Templar chapter. There were nine in total, in their standard configuration of one sergeant, four marines, with a neophyte attached to each marine. The Marines were armed with standard bolters and chainswords, and the neophytes were armed with bolters and combat knives."

In other words, this is a scouting force and a poorly equipped one at that, Kirahla concluded: "Have you been detected?"

"No, Far Seer. I am currently tailing them as they move through the forest."

"Good. Maintain sight upon them, but do not fire on them, unless you are receiving fire from them." It was unlikely that the Inquisitor had suspected of Eldar involvement on this planet at the moment. And given the size of human involvement here, it was then extremely unlikely that the humans were aware that the soul of their king had drifted to this world—for if it was known, the Imperium would surely bring all its military might to bear on it, this Maiden World that Kirahla was tasked to reclaim for the Craftworld. And that would certainly doom her efforts.

"Acknowledged."

Kirahla cut her psychic link with the Ranger, and left the task of broadcasting that order to the rest of the Rangers to her Warlock, before walking slowly to the area where the Bonesingers had been working.

"Far Seer," the Choir Lead bowed her head in reverence as Kirahla made her appearance, "we have begun assembly of defensive Shuriken platforms, as you commanded."

"Very well." Kirahla was pleased. "How goes the repair of the Webway gate?"

"The technology is ancient. We are making our best efforts, but as I have reported…"

"The restoration could take months or years." The Choir Lead bowed her head apologetically as Kirahla made the offhand comment.

The Far Seer immediately regretted these words; even though she was leading the expedition, she believed that she must pay due respect to each member of her force. Well, maybe not Azrael; that blockhead of a Pathfinder butted head with her way too often. "… You must pardon me for my impatience. I am… exhausted from my meditation."

"Far Seer," The Choir Lead continued to speak as Kirahla traced the curve of a Wraithguard's head. It was indeed a marvelous piece of creation; fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on perspective—no Waystones were available to animate them. "The Warp storm is interacting with the gate's mechanisms in ways unknown even to us. I fear that, if the storm does not subside, we would be trapped on this world forever."

"Fear not," Kirahla made a smile, "for I have seen the threads of fate, and we shall prevail despite the odds stacked against us."

She had seen nothing of the sort.

But, little white lies that keeps up morale have never hurt anyone, have they?

The Far Seer walked off with that small smile.

* * *

><p>"Here you go!"<p>

Madoka had prepared a larger lunch box than usual. Picking up a small ball of fried eggs, she fed it to Kyubey, who munched on it happily. Having lunch on the roof of the school on a sunny day was one of the activities to which Madoka actually looked forward: having the blue sky surround them, having the breeze brush through her hair, and generally getting a little piece of nature in a metropolis made her relax greatly.

"Um, Madoka?" Sayaka finished her lunch quickly that day. "Have you thought about what wish you want to make?"

Have I thought about it? Madoka asked herself. It was practically the only thing on her mind these days. She even drew pictures of herself in her Magical Girl costume in class today; she always loved puffy dresses.

"No… not really." She had thought about it a lot. But if she said "yes", then Sayaka would ask her what wishes she wanted to make, and Madoka had yet to have any idea of that. "What about you, Sayaka?"

"I haven't, either." Sayaka stretched her arms and let out a small comfortable moan as her muscles tensed. "I kinda thought a whole bunch of things would just come to me. Ya know, 'you'll know it when you know it' kind of thing?"

Sure, that really sounds like Sayaka; Madoka nodded in her mind as Sayaka stood up.

"There're a lotta things I wanna wish for, but because we'll have to risk our lives… it kinda make you rethink things a lot, doesn't it? You end up thinking that it probably isn't worth that much in the end."

"Yeah." Madoka sighed: it was the only reason she was agonizing over the choice of wishes. If she could do it risk-free, she would have wished for a giant teddy bear that she saw at the department store the other day; but potentially trading her life away for a teddy bear?

"That's surprising. Most girls answer almost immediately."

"I'm sure we're just dumb this way." Sayaka stood beside the fences around the edge of the building.

"Hmm? How so?" Sayaka… doesn't feel like Sayaka right now, Madoka thought.

"Yup. We're happy idiots." Sayaka nodded, "It really shouldn't be all that uncommon to have a wish you'd trade your life to see it realized. There're probably a lot of people in the world with wishes like that…"

The fence rattled in the wind. "If we can't think of anything, it just means that we really didn't have anything that bad happen to us. We've had too much given to us, and have become numb to suffering. Why us, I wonder?"

Sayaka quickly turned around, startling Madoka a little: "Don't you think it's unfair? I mean, there probably are a lot of other people who'd really want a chance like this."

Profound. It wasn't like her to say anything this profound, thought Madoka: "Sayaka…"

* * *

><p>Homura's long hair fluttered in the wind as she emerged from the entrance to the rooftop, her small necklace dangling above her chest.<p>

Sayaka quickly scurried in front of Madoka to shield her from Homura.

"Don't worry," Mami's voice rang in Homura's head. She intentionally broadcasted her message to make her presence known, Homura thought as she leered at the bell tower, where Mami was standing with her Soul Gem at the ready.

Troublesome interlopers, both of them; Homura came to a stop about ten steps away from Madoka and Sayaka, staring them both in the eye.

"You trying to pick up where you left off yesterday?"

Miki Sayaka, she tried to sound as threatening as she could, but there was nothing that would mark you as a threat for me; Homura shot her a glare.

"No, I'm not. I wanted to handle that thing before it made contact with Kaname Madoka, but it's too late for that now." It was truly a pity. If I had used my powers at that moment… "So, what have you decided?

"Are you going to become a Magical Girl, too?" Please, say no. I beg of you, Madoka, please say no!

"I…"

"How's this any of your business?" How is this any of my business, Miki Sayaka? You have the gall to ask that? You dare say that this isn't my business?

Homura's stare turned murderous, as Sayaka winced. Calm down, Homura; she doesn't know what you know.

Ignorance is bliss for her, but ignorance will kill her.

"Do you remember what I said to you yesterday?"

"Yeah." Good. At least she remembers.

"That's good, then. I pray that my warning doesn't fall on deaf ears." She couldn't do much more than that at this point. Madoka had already come into contact with that creature; the best she could do, then, was to watch over Madoka, and make sure she never makes a contract.

"H-Homura, wait!" Madoka finally mustered enough courage to call out to me… "Um, what wish did you make to become a magical girl?"

… My wish. She was thinking about becoming a Magical Girl, already.

I must not give her opportunity to contract.

I will not…

Because my wish is…

* * *

><p>Homura paused as Madoka's question finished.<p>

Did I anger her again, I wonder? Madoka thought as Homura turned around, her straight black hair fluttering in the wind.

Homura's purple-black eyes stared deep into Madoka's. They were like swords, piercing and stabbing at Madoka, causing her to wince and almost look away.

For a moment, all she could hear was the wind whipping around them. Homura turned around again, with her back facing them.

And then, she started to sing.

"When can I see again here, the future that I have lost? In the world where just about everything is twisted, having that single place that I can believe in saved me…"

Homura's singing was heavenly; Madoka had never known that she could sing this well. It was wispy and smooth, almost like Mami's voice, but it was completely different from it: whereas Mami's voice was soothing and calming, Homura's song was...

"The time that ticked away ceaselessly now announces the beginning. Putting my unchanging feelings into it, I'll open the closed door…"

There was something in those words that truly struck a chord with her. Something she could not even find words to describe vibrated inside her, sending shivers throughout her body.

In the clock tower, Mami's Soul Gem started to glow with a soft yellow light, much to her surprise.

"I won't forget the promise we made. I'll close my eyes and reaffirm it once more. Even if I come to a standstill on a difficult road, I'll show you I'll overcome it, so I'll certainly believe in tomorrow and pray…"

With that last stanza, Homura disappeared into the dark hallway.

"Huh… what's this… what's happening to me…?"

Madoka touched her face with her palm in surprise. Tears flowed down from the corners of her eyes, forming streams of liquid that cooled in the wind.

She was crying, without even noticing it herself.

Why?

Why did she cry from listening to Homura's song?

Just what kind of wish did Homura make?

* * *

><p>Sergeant Dividus was uneasy.<p>

As a Space Marine—the chosen warrior of the Emperor—he had never known fear in battle. But the forest had a strange vibe to them, one that he could describe only as "foreboding".

It was as if someone was watching them as they advanced as stealthily as possible.

Dividus did not like psykers, much like the rest of his brothers. Even though Gideon Kane was an Inquisitor and it was their duty to support and protect him, Dividus did not hold a high opinion of him. He was brash, arrogant, impatient and—most importantly—an abominable psyker.

Maybe his unease and the neophytes' edginess were simply because they were operating on a psyker planet. How they became stuck inside the eye of a thrice-damned Warp storm is beyond him; how they came to orbit a backwards planet of nascent psykers could only be described as the machinations of the Ruinous Powers.

"Sergeant," Dividus recognized the voice in the vox channel as Brother Sullivus, "We are being watched. I can feel it."

"Yes, Brother." The Sergeant looked around in the trees. It was not the dense jungle of Catachan, but Dividus was not about to let down his guard. "It also means that we're getting close to the Xeno encampment."

"Indeed, Sergeant." Another battle brother—Brother Iohannes—spoke through his vox channel. Iohannes had served some decades within the Deathwatch, fighting Xenos such as these treacherous Eldar, so his words carried special weight in situations like this. "It is most likely that the Xenos are using their artifact's cloaking field to disguise themselves. We must be on our guard."

The _Invicta_ had only marked the approximate position of the Xeno camp on his tactical map, and the sensors on his power armor did not have enough power to break through the Eldar cloaking field.

They were blind inside the forest, whether the Sergeant liked it or not. Give him an Ork Warboss, and he would gladly fight it one-on-one with his chainsword if it meant the rest of his brothers could mow down as many Xeno as possible.

The elusiveness of these Eldar only further proved these lithe alien's cowardice, and that fueled his rage at these Emperor-forsaken creatures.

"Sire," A neophyte—Dividus recognized him as Torvus, Sullivus' squire—spoke in the vox channel, "if the Xenos are watching us, why do they not attack? My blade itches for their blood."

"Torvus," Dividus could hear Iohannes' smile, "The Eldar are unpredictable creatures. When the situation requires it, they could be capable of great bravery, even willingly charge to their deaths."

"Then, there must be some logic behind their cowardice in this case." Dividus added, before the tactical map on his helmet display blinked. "We are close to their base camp. Torvus, set it up."

"Aye, sire." The squires started working on a portable sensor pack, as the marines spread out into a defensive picket around it. Even while inactive, the Webway gate obscured individual power signatures under its cloaking field. Both the senior sensorii priest of the _Invicta _and Captain Miroslav suspected that the psyker civilization on this planet did not have technology advanced enough to detect the gate, hence how they have never been detected.

The sensor pack that the team carried would boost the resolution of the _Invicta_'s sensors, makign it possible for them to discern structures, defenses, and even people from each other, even while they were cloaked under the shadow of the Webway gate.

As soon as it is set up, the treachery of the Xeno filth will be revealed; Dividus thought.


	7. VI: I Thought That Was Really Nice, 3

There was something weird about Madoka and Sayaka today.

Hitomi thought as she took her street shoes out of her shoe locker. There was that incident when Sayaka saw Madoka this morning, where she was shocked at absolutely nothing. There was that _non-sequitur_ blurting of "good morning" by Madoka this morning. And then, there was this weird energy between the two of them throughout the day.

Whenever something abnormal happened between them, though, Hitomi had always felt an inexplicable and weird itch at the back of her head.

Just what was going on between them?

"Uh, sorry, Hitomi..." Madoka and Sayaka had already changed into their street shoes, "We can't hang out with you today."

Wait, what?

Hitomi was a little shocked at Sayaka's words. They have always had some time after school to hang out with each other, going shopping or getting snacks. Never, once, did Sayaka or Madoka miss the chance out of their own volition: it was always Hitomi who could not go because she had one class or another after school.

Hitomi had no classes this afternoon. She had nothing else to do.

So why were they trying to avoid her?

"Keeping secrets, now, are we?" Hitomi's voice was practically dripping with jealousy.

"Well, uh..."

"I'm so envious of you both!" Hitomi decided to play it over the top; after all, this morning she was borrowing a note from Sayaka with her reactions, as well. "No one can come between you now, can they~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~?"

Dragging the last syllable out, she sprinted out of Madoka and Sayaka's sight, before turning around and hiding in a corner, keeping herself hidden from them.

She had no experience of being a stalker nor did she like being one, but she had to find out the details behind this sudden and strange change of attitudes.

They were her friends. She had the right to know.

* * *

><p>Madoka usually had two people with her after school. Most of the times, they were Sayaka and Hitomi, but today, Sayaka and Mami were with her instead.<p>

The café Mami chose was a small but elegant one, unlike the Starbucks that were littered all around the city. The seats were comfortably soft, the lighting was similarly accommodating, and small art and sculpture pieces lined the milky white walls.

The place almost felt romantic. Why hasn't she paid attention to such a good coffee shop? Madoka wondered as she sipped her latte. The rich milky taste rolled on her tongue, almost sending her to heaven; Miss Mami really does have great taste!

"Okay. Let's begin our first lesson on the Magical Girl experience." Mami gently set down her cup of cappuccino and spoke with a smile, "Are you two ready?"

"I'm not sure if it'll help, but I brought this!" Sayaka stood up with a slam on the delicate table. Madoka had wondered what the cylindrical-shaped object Sayaka carried was.

With a dramatic unfurling of cloth, Sayaka revealed the content. It was a wooden baseball bat, yet Sayaka struck a pose with it like a musketeer, thrusting it high into the air.

Miss Mami is more qualified for that pose! Madoka almost palmed her face.

"I thought it'd be better than nothing." Sure, it is; it also makes you look like a delinquent. Madoka sighed and buried her face into her hands.

"Well, if you're that prepared, it'll help." Madoka could hear the sweat drop in Mami's voice. Miss Mami is just too nice!

"Madoka, did you bring anything?" Sayaka let the bat rest against her shoulders as she turned her head.

"Huh?"

Wait, me? Would it be okay if I show them those sketches I made in class, I wonder?

Madoka hesitated for a second.

Miss Mami's really nice, so she wouldn't laugh at me, would she? As for Sayaka… well, I kind of expected her to laugh, anyway, so I'm prepared!

"Um, uh, here!"

"Wow…" Sayaka stared at the sketches on the notebook as she let out a drawn-out whisper of amazement. The sketch involved a fluffy and frilly dress, with plenty of bowties and ribbons decorated all over the place. Madoka sketched Mami and Homura too on the other side of the page.

"I… I figured I might as well think about what outfit I'd like to wear." What made I sketch Homura, I wonder? Madoka thought as she tried to explain herself.

"Pff….pfft… hahahaha… HAHAHAHA~~~~~!"

Both Mami and Sayaka burst out in laughter.

Even Miss Mami is laughing at me…

Madoka bowed her head in embarrassment.

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane moved silently toward the abandoned structure.<p>

A persistent psychic presence permeated the entire structure. It was similar to the one he felt before, the one that led him to the mall, but this one was much, much more powerful.

What could it be?

He approached the side wall of the structure.

Was it a barrier?

It appeared completely unremarkable under normal vision. If the building were surrounded by a daemonic barrier, there would be either a swirling violet mist or an unpleasant sense of impending doom around the barrier.

It had neither; strange, for a daemonic barrier.

The Ruinous Powers may be using this planet as a laboratory for new and horrifying daemon breeds, Kane thought.

But that does not require the presence of what appears to be a naturally occurring psyker population. The Imperium and the Inquisition had encountered previous attempts to create new breeds of daemons before, none of which required unpossessed psykers.

Inquisitor Kane was still baffled at the planet as he reached the building.

A vague fragrance of roses drifted into his nose, but the Inquisitor could tell that his nose was not actually sensing the smell of roses. The daemon's barrier was playing tricks with his mind, trying to lure psychically active humans like him into the barrier for its consumption.

Maybe the daemon at the center of the barrier is a minor Slaaneshi daemon trying to replenish its strength by consuming humans.

The Inquisitor instinctively dropped his psychic cloak. There was no one around, anyway, and his cloak was too primitive to hide from the daemon's senses, no matter how weak it was.

With his reclaimed strength, he probed against the barrier. The fragrance of roses grew stronger as his probe encountered resistance; at the same time, his nose caught a whiff of stench, characteristic of a daemon.

There are daemons on the planet, after all.

Just as the Inquisitor finished his thought, he heard what appeared to be a scream from a girl in front of the building.

Hiding himself with his cloak, he observed three girls—one with blue hair, one with pink hair, and another with blonde hair—standing in front of the building.

And there was one woman in apparent free fall from the top of it.

With a flash of light, the blonde girl transformed into a completely different set of clothes, and created golden ropes and ribbons which caught the free-falling woman and gently set her down on the ground.

Inquisitor Kane could not believe his eyes.

That blonde girl is an active psyker on this planet?

Her psychic output easily matched the Inquisitor's. She appeared no older than 20 years of age, and already she could create material and alter gravity at will. Kane spent decades slowly honing his psychic power, and all he could do at the moment was simple psychic cloaks and mind blasts.

What's more curious to the Inquisitor was the flashy appearance of her transformation and ribbons. They seemed both wasteful and impractical.

But that was not his main concern. One of the girls—he could not tell for sure—seemed to be _leaking_ power. How much power, he could not be certain, but he was sure that one of them were bleeding off psychic energy.

Strange. Very strange.

Inquisitor Kane had never seen such a psyker before. It was unsettling.

There was no time to ponder the discovery further, however, as the girls had already run into the main lobby of the building. The Inquisitor followed, only to see them swallowed into an intricately-crafted portal surrounded by butterflies.

The stench of a daemon leaked out of the portal.

But by the time Kane arrived there, the portal had closed.

He dropped his cloak again and probed against the barrier. The place where the portal opened felt a little tender, but he could not force his way through.

Footsteps. Behind him.

The Inquisitor quickly turned around, whipping out his bolt pistol at the same time.

* * *

><p>They sure have walked a long time.<p>

Hitomi hid behind a utility post as she caught her breath. Madoka's group was approaching an abandoned building.

Her heart beat more than twice a second, and her face flushed red hot. She was nervous, and she was embarrassed; nervous, because she did not want Madoka and Sayaka finding out that their best friend had just turned into a stalker, and embarrassed, because she was stalking people for the first time.

She did get some useful information by eavesdropping on their conversation, though. It seems like Mami—the blonde girl—was an upper year student, and they were discussing "hunting witches" and "magical girls".

Could it be... that Madoka and Sayaka fell off the deep end?

Hitomi almost palmed her face. Since when did those two became otaku-like? She knew that Sayaka had always favored shoujo manga, but even Madoka...

No. That's not it. That can't be it. It wouldn't lead them into the construction section of the mall they frequent. It wouldn't make them talk about "soul gems" and "looking for witches". It wouldn't make them talk about "that transfer student" and "partner of justice".

And it certainly wouldn't make them talk about traffic accidents and suicides.

Hitomi dashed forth and quickly jumped silently behind the flower bush in front of an abandoned building.

What are they doing in front of this building?

Hitomi remembered. This residential building was abandoned because there was apparently a structural defect. It was slated to be demolished in the near future, but at the moment there was no one around it.

Or is there?

Maybe this Mami lives here. Maybe she's leading them to a gang whose base of operations is there. Maybe this is a trap!

Hitomi's imagination began to run wild again, but she was interrupted.

"Miss Mami, look at that!" Sayaka's cries caused Hitomi to shift her stare to the top of the building.

A figure—an office lady, to be exact—stood outside the protective barriers around the rooftop.

What's she doing there? Doesn't she know it's dangerous to stand there? Or...!

Hitomi's eyes widened as Madoka let out a shrill scream. The woman hurled herself off of the building! She's trying to commit suicide!

Ribbons of light—physically impossible light—wrapped around Mami's body and she transformed into a different outfit. More ribbons of light knitted into a net and caught the falling woman, before gently laying her unconscious body onto the ground.

What did she just see here?

Hitomi's jaws were wide open.

She just saw something like the magical girl transformation inside an anime for kids, and that upper-year student Mami perform something that defied physics.

That woman should have died! Gravity and the force of impact should have killed her!

Something inside her mind suddenly clicked. The talk about "magical girls" and "witches" were not some meaningless banter between otakus.

They were real.

Hitomi would rather not think about the implications of that. Nor did she have time to, for the trio had already dashed into the lobby of the building after briefly examining the woman's body.

She followed, being as discreet as possible, but the girls had already disappeared.

In their place, was a large man with half his skull encased in metal, and his limbs surrounded by what appeared to be joints and metal bars.

And with a smooth motion, he pulled out what appeared to be a large gun and aimed it at Hitomi.

* * *

><p>The inside of the Witch's barrier is even more mind-boggling than what she had seen last time.<p>

Madoka thought as she kept Kyubey in her arms and sprinted between Sayaka and Mami.

"Stay away! Stay away!" Sayaka screamed at these creatures as she waved her enchanted baseball bat. Somehow Madoka wished that she had a pair of enchanted crystal slippers instead; but in that story, there was no kind, loving and protective mentorlike Miss Mami, only abusive step-relatives and... and a witch.

Then again, there was no seven-eyed monsters with wings that fly around in a twisted and bizarre version of reality, either; and that witch did not cause traffic accidents or make people commit suicide.

"Are you scared?" Mami took aim with her musket and shot a seven-eyed creature to pieces. They had been sprinting inside the barrier for quite a while, now, and all they had seen were twisted hallways lined with barbed thorns, seven-eyed monsters trying to attack them, and moustached cotton balls passing roses around.

"N-No way! This ain't nothing!" Sayaka stumbled on her denial. She must be pretty terrified, like Madoka was.

Mami extended her arm and stopped Madoka and Sayaka as they came up to a bridge. About a dozen seven-eyed monsters flew around it in lightning speeds.

With an assured step she whipped out a musket and popped a monster with a single shot. Then, with the spent musket, she swung it like a bat and bashed apart another, sending the weapon flying into a third monster, cutting it to pieces.

Another musket flew out from under her sleeves as her right hand drew a graceful arc in the air. Shouldering the weapon, Mami fired off another shot that pierced a monster and sent the one behind it reeling in pain.

But the shattered monsters were not completely defeated. They burst apart into eyes that flew around Madoka and Sayaka. Sensing their weakness, they gathered together behind Sayaka, into a new group of creatures that focused their attention on the girls.

Sayaka braced herself as she held her bat in a defensive stance, but the clump of creatures were too big for her bat to bash away. The clump spat out a creature at the duo, which Sayaka barely deflected with a loud ping. Madoka winced at the sound; it was loud enough that her ears rang.

Mami's dance of destruction came swiftly as she made a flying stomp at the clump, instantly dispersing them. Her hat in her right hand, she spun around like a ballet dancer, creating a ring of muskets which found their mark a split second later, shattering all of the monsters into pieces.

I'm afraid of these creatures. I'm afraid of this dimension. I'm afraid of the witches.

Mami beamed a small confident smile at Madoka.

But, somehow, they don't scare me at all!

Madoka made a weak smile in return.

Because Miss Mami's with me! Because she will protect me!

So, everything will be all right!

* * *

><p>Pathfinder Azrael squatted on the upper level of the main lobby.<p>

The predicament of the creatures down in the lobby was interesting. Kirahla had told him to observe either Tomoe Mami or the black-haired female, but he had no motivation to do as he was told.

The _mon-keigh_ inquisitor, however, proved to be a much better target.

At this moment, its back was turned toward him, and it was focusing its attention on another female _mon-keigh_ with green hair.

Azrael leveled his rifle at the Inquisitor.

It would be but a moment's pause and a fleeting sliver of tranquility; at this point where time stood still, he would become an angel of death, an agent of the War God.

His enemies—the Eldar's enemies—would find death through his shot, but they would find no peace. No, they would finally be cast into the obscene oblivion of the Warp, as befit all who oppose the Eldar.

And only through that, would he find peace and comfort.

His finger curled around the trigger.

* * *

><p>Hitomi was mortified as she stared down the barrel of the enormous gun.<p>

This man was obviously not from the city. Not only did he have half his skull replaced by shiny metal plates, his elbows, knees and ankles were surrounded by mechanical arms and joints. Even disregarding all the metal parts, his skin was too pale to be someone from the city.

Inquisitor Kane palmed his face mentally as the girl in front of him shivered in fear. He was pointing his pistol at a native civilian. She was, too, a weak psyker, much like the rest of the planet's population, and she seemed harmless enough.

He lowered his bolt pistol, but did not holster it again. Something was grating against the back of his mind, as if his instincts were trying to tell him something.

Inquisitor Kane took a step forward as Hitomi took a step backward, still too afraid to turn around and run away.

Just what's going on here? Hitomi's brain screamed for answer.

I was too careless, Kane thought, careless enough that I have been discovered by a native.

But this may be an opportunity, Kane's train of thought continued as he kept his gaze on the frozen girl; even though I do not know the native tongue of this planet, perhaps I could communicate telepathically with her, and hope she would understand me?

Hitomi's mind churned slowly as she searched her surroundings. There was nowhere she could hide and nowhere to run; the scary man was going to kill her if she runs! She knew it!

But then, a gruff voice rang inside her head, one that was not her own:

"I am Inquisitor Gideon Kane. I mean no harm."

"GYAAAA!"

With a scream Hitomi clasped her ears and squatted on the floor. Piercing pain accompanied the voice, twisting Hitomi's expression and coaxing some tears from her eyes.

Telepathic communication could cause her pain?

The Inquisitor was surprised, but Hitomi could not decide whether or not he meant what he... "said". The pain was piercing, sure, but it lasted only as long as the man "spoke".

She lifted her eyelids and peered at the towering man, who looked down at her with his emerald eyes. His gaze seemed peaceful enough...

Something collided with the Inquisitor's refractor field. The generator immediately overloaded itself as the egg-shaped field blinked off, but it was all the time that the Inquisitor needed.

Without a moment's pause, Kane whipped around his pistol and fired along the direction from where the shot came from, while quickly moving to cover outside the building.

Now's my chance! Hitomi quickly came out from squatting on the ground and dashed away from the building, never sparing a second to look back.

* * *

><p>Tch!<p>

Ranger Azrael could not believe that his bullet did not find its mark.

Rather, it did find its mark, just that there was a Warp-damned force field around the target.

He slid gracefully off of the handrails and landed in the center of the lobby. Exploding bolts blew up concrete and tiles, sending puffs of dust and smoke into the air.

But that was not the end of it. His target was apparently vaguely aware of his presence, as it shifted its fire in response of Azrael's movements, despite the fact that Azrael was cloaked.

Well, isn't this interesting? Azrael had a grin on his face as he made an acrobatic dance to avoid the deadly projectiles from his target's bolt pistol.

You are just itching for a fight, aren't you, _mon-keigh_ scum? Then, you shall have it!

"No, he shall not." Kirahla's voice vibrated inside Azrael's skull as he quickly ascended to the second floor of the building. "Your priority is to observe either Tomoe Mami or the black-haired girl. The warlocks have reported that the black-haired girl had entered the building before the Inquisitor. You are to find her, and stalk her."

Tch!

Azrael spat again with disdain.

* * *

><p>"See? That's a witch."<p>

Madoka had always imagined a witch to be an old crone, perpetually stirring a bubbling cauldron of sticky green liquid fueled by dead bodies and rotten wood. They would sometimes dance around the cauldron, chanting their nonsensical verses and casting curses on those that slighted them.

This Witch was beyond her imagination.

It had a sticky bush-like head, with roses embedded on it, and a pair of butterfly wings. Its body was like a pile of clay, or even... or even a writhing stomach, with veins of red across it. It had on short stubby legs, like a centipede, and it sat on a large chair.

"Ugh, it's gruesome!" Sayaka winced.

The image revolted Madoka so much that she wanted to throw up.

So Miss Mami had been fighting creatures like this?

And if we make a wish, we will too, for the rest of our lives?

It suddenly made wish-making a much less enticing compensation for Madoka.

"Are you... are you going to fight that?" Madoka whimpered. She could not imagine the courage and resolve Mami must have to keep fighting Witches.

Did Madoka have it in her? Could she, like Miss Mami, fight these creatures one after another until she die?

"It's all right." Mami took Sayaka's enchanted baseball bat from her, and twirled it in her hand as if it were a musket. "It's not like I'm going to lose to that!"

Her smile was brimming with confidence. It reassured Madoka a bit.

With a thud, the thick end of the bat crashed into the ground, and a small barrier formed around it, wrapping both Sayaka and Madoka inside.

"Stay here. I won't be long." With that, Mami hopped off the platform and stood in front of the witch, squashing a small creature under her foot. She then proceeded to make an elegant curtsey, lifting her short skirt and bowing her head. A pair of muskets dropped from the lifted portions of her skirt, stabbing into the ground and stood on their muzzles.

The Witch finally raised its head, as if it noticed Mami's taunts. With a pained mucous roar, it whipped its head around, and sent the chair on which it sat hurtling toward her.

With both muskets Mami opened fire, and blasted the huge chair to bits, while hopping back to avoid the crash. Taking her hat off again with her right hand, she spun around on her toes, producing more muskets that littered around her in a field of weapons.

The Witch was then adhering to the walls with its legs. The speed at which it moved was beyond Madoka's wildest imaginations—she never knew that something this big could move so fast that her eyes could barely catch it.

Mami, however, did not seem to mind. She pulled her muskets from the ground one by one, and fired them at the Witch. Each shot missed, but each shot forced the Witch higher and higher on the wall.

Madoka was amazed that, although all her shots missed, there was no haste or recklessness in Mami's motions. Even as the amount of muskets around her reduced quickly, Mami made no attempt to make more.

Maybe it was all part of her plan, Madoka thought.

Mami appeared genuinely surprised as small creatures—copies of the one that she squashed as a doorbell—crawled up her legs. They quickly turned into a black tentacle; it tightened around her torso and whipped around, dragging Mami up with a scream from her.

"Miss Mami!"

"Watch out!"

Both Sayaka and Madoka panicked. But Mami seemed not to mind. Even as she was being thrown around, she was pulling muskets out of her sleeves and firing, spraying small shots into the ground in little fissures.

With a crash the tentacle sent Mami into the wall, coaxing a pained grunt from her. The tentacle then pulled her body free from the crater, and hung her upside down in mid air.

"It's all right." Mami replied with a smile. Somehow, her hat was still on her head, even when her head was pointing at the ground.

The Witch seemed to be puzzled as it looked at her. How could this little creature in front of it be so confident, while it had the upper hand?

Golden threads seeped out of the cracked her shots left on the ground. These threads burnt the creatures inside the barrier, and turned them into fragments and pieces.

"I can't let my future apprentices see me when I'm down!" It was all part of Mami's plan. She made the Witch a little overconfident with her constant missing, and tricked the Witch into the right position by feinting surprise as the Witch entangled her with its tentacle. Then, while the Witch sent her into the air, she shot at the ground with scatter shots, planting seeds of mana which then turned into these golden threads.

It was then that the Witch realized its folly. With a panicked roar, it tried to command its familiars to sever the threads, but they all disappeared as the golden threads touched them. Seeing its lackeys fail, its face became a butterfly as it summoned tens of gardening shears with whips of thorn and tried to attack Mami in a desperate attempt to kill her before it was finished.

But it was too late. The clanking of the shears stopped as the golden threads tied around the witch in a tight bind. It struggled and writhed, but it could not escape the bind.

"It's a shame." Mami untied her bow on her collar, and with one stroke the yellow ribbon severed the black tentacle that bound her. "You're not good enough."

Dancing in mid-air, she spun the ribbon around, and somehow a huge matchlock cannon appeared in front of her.

Pointing the cannon at the Witch's head, she winked at Madoka and Sayaka, before calling out her attack:

"TIRO FINALE!"

A bright yellow beam lashed out from the muzzle of the cannon. The Witch's head took the hit; it exploded into a billion bright fragments, as its body started to disintegrate into a shower of light.

Mami landed on the ground with a light hop. Out of nowhere, a steaming cup of tea landed in her hand, and she casually took a sip from it. She then turned to Madoka and Sayaka with a victorious smile.

"She won?" Sayaka could not believe her eyes.

Neither could Madoka: "Awesome!"

* * *

><p>Homura caught the Grief Seed Mami tossed at her.<p>

It was no surprise that Mami was aware of her presence. It was also no surprise that she would try to make friends with Homura.

That was of no concern. What was of concern, however, was that Mami tried to teach Madoka the things in their world: Grief Seeds, Soul Gems, and fighting witches.

Knowing Madoka, she would not step back and forget everything so easily. Mami's performance today would certainly inspire Madoka. She would look up to Mami as a respectable mentor, and walk further down the path of becoming a Magical Girl.

That, Homura cannot allow.

"You should be able to use it one more time." Mami said with that annoying smile of hers. "I'll give it to you, Miss Akemi Homura."

Homura had no choice but to emerge from the shadow. The sight of that white creature in Madoka's embrace saddened her. The act of Mami trying to make peace with her through the offering of a Grief Seed angered her.

As long as that white creature still lived, as long as Madoka still thought about becoming a magical girl, Homura would find no peace, no rest, and no respite. Attempting to bribe her with a Grief Seed as if it were something of value was to simply trample on her pride.

"It's her." Sayaka's words had no impact on Homura's expression. She knew that the blue-haired idiot did not like her much, anyway.

Because Madoka is mine to protect, not yours.

"Or, are you not happy sharing with another?" No, that was not it. As intelligent as Mami was, she was simply too blind to the truth.

Grief Seeds held no value for Homura. It was nothing but sugar-coated poison, designed to keep Magical Girls like Mami from escaping.

She wanted nothing short of the complete and utter destruction of the incubators. She wanted nothing short of the complete and utter disintegration of this twisted system.

She wanted nothing short of saving Madoka.

"It was your prey." Homura spoke with as steady a voice as she could. "Therefore, you should keep it for yourself, Tomoe Mami."

With a toss, the black Grief Seed tumbled into Mami's hand.

"So, that's your answer." Mami was less than pleased by Homura's answer. It was of no consequence, Homura thought; as long as Mami could keep herself alive and useful, how she regarded Homura was unimportant.

As long as she could be useful for the final confrontation, Homura need not care.

"Kaname Madoka," Homura turned her back on the trio, "Remember what I said."

And with that, she disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

><p>Madoka sat quietly at her desk and looked out toward the night sky. Mitakihara's light made it difficult, but she could still see some constellations.<p>

It was as if she had been in a dream for the entire day. Mami fought off an ugly Witch, and the woman who tried to jump off the building turned out to be okay.

Everything was as it should be. All is right with the world, for the moment.

"It's too difficult to make a wish that I want come true on a moment's notice," She scribbled in her diary. Indeed, even now, she had no idea what her wish would be. Perhaps it was as Sayaka had said: that they were happy idiots, people fortunate enough to not have something that they desperately want to change in their lives, even if it means giving their lives to fight abominations like Witches.

"But seeing Miss Mami doing her best to save others was really, really amazing." Her graceful dance, her confident smile, her comforting voice, everything left a deep imprint on her mind. She was beautiful, both her body and her soul; she was truly the most amazing person that Madoka had ever met.

"If... if someone like me can really help people," Madoka continued. She was not sure that she could be as perfect as Miss Mami is, but maybe... just maybe, when she becomes a magical girl, she could help others just like Miss Mami could, and...

"If that's the case, I think that would be really nice."


	8. VII: I'm Not Afraid of Anything Anymore

Sayaka's heart pounded as she stood outside the hospital room.

Every time she comes to visit him, it was like this. Her heart kept racing, and her face felt like it could fry an egg.

Maybe that is how love felt like, Sayaka thought. The tightening of her chest, the shortness of her breaths, the thumping of her heart, everything was felt so very painful, so very uncomfortable, when she was close to him.

But she had to see him, even though her throat closes up when she was near him, even though her body burns up when she was near him, even though her limbs lose their strength when she was near him.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to see his smile. She wanted to hear his voice. She wanted to meet his gaze.

Taking in a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart as usual, and as she expected, it only made her heart go faster.

She was ready.

The curtain fluttered in the wind.

He sat in his bed and looked out the open window. Sayaka liked seeing him like this, with the setting sun coating him and the entire room with a layer of gold.

Was he thinking about her? Was he waiting for her?

He turned his head, and greeted her with a big smile: "Oh, hey!"

"Uh, um, hi!" Sayaka stumbled with her words, but a smile as warm as his crept up her lips without any effort.

The room was lined with bookshelf-patterned wallpaper. A stack of CDs sat on the night stand, along with a portable CD player. A flower bouquet stood in a delicate vase on the windowsill, bobbing with the wind.

He is going to love what I got him this time!

With a beaming smile, Sayaka pulled out a CD from her school bag and held it up with her hands. It was a CD of David Oistrakh, a Russian violinist, and it took her hours sifting through the racks in a vintage CD store to find it.

His reactions when he saw the CD, though, made those hours very much worth it.

"Thanks for always helping me out." He gently set the jewel case down, and beamed a happy smile at Sayaka, which caused her pulse to race yet again. "You have such a talent for finding rare CDs like this, Sayaka!"

"Um, I'm sure I just have really good luck when it comes to things like this." She stumbled yet again, blushing harder as she spoke.

He opened the portable CD player with his right hand. "Mr. Oistrakh is amazing. He's one of the greatest violinists in the last century. Do you want to listen, too?"

"Um, are you sure?"

"I really wanted some better audio equipment for you to enjoy it, but we're in a hospital..." There was a pang of regret in his voice.

Sayaka gingerly took a headphone from him, and plugged it into her ear.

The wire's too short—!

He moved closer to Sayaka and it was then that all of a sudden she realized just how close she was to him. She could _smell_ him, the powerful odour of alcohol and medicine mixed with the fragrance of his shampoo hitting her in the head like a hammer. She took in a deep breath, but her entire body simply grew hotter as her nose drew in more of his smell.

The violin sang and wept through the headphones as she closed her eyes, and Sayaka was back when she was eight, when she sat in the front row in that concert hall in an azure dress, watching him in a tuxedo on stage.

She remembered watching him with wide eyes and slacked jaws. She never thought that he was that handsome until that moment. She never thought that music could be so amazing until that moment.

She wished she was back in time, back when she watched with those eyes at him, back when she traced the movements of his bow across the strings, back when she sank herself in the paradise that he created through his notes.

A small sniffle caught Sayaka's attention. As she opened her eyes, she saw him facing away from her, a trail of glitter across his cheeks.

His entire body shivered with the music. His left hand twitched with the music.

And he wept.

And Sayaka wept in her heart with him.

* * *

><p>Far Seer Kirahla opened her eyes once again.<p>

She had immersed herself in meditation in the past two days.

She had seen the threads of fate, of the future.

And she did not like it one bit.

She wobbled as she stood up. She had also been fasting for the past two days, and she needed nourishment. But getting food and drinks was not even at the top of her to-do list.

What she had seen required much more attention than her physical health.

Walking out of her tent, she took in a breath of fresh air. The heady fragrance of incense inside the tent was helpful in leading her into her trance, but too much of it made her head spin.

In front of her, two fully automatic Shuriken platforms stood, watching warily into the distance. Knowing the Black Templars, the _mon-keigh_ Space Marines would have very much liked storming the camp and trying to slaughter every one of them, but they probably knew that they were being watched, and these Shuriken platforms were too threatening to dispatch with just bolters and chainswords.

Even though they were good-for-nothing fanatics, they were not fools. Good, Kirahla thought; the current status quo would be beneficial to her plans.

Azrael, on the other hand, proved to be a headache. Sure, he had provided most of the much-needed information on Tomoe Mami and the black-haired girl, but his personality—one of the most arrogant and elitist Eldar with whom she had ever worked—was proving to be a burden, and that had not taken into account his trigger-happy personality, as evident from when he set his sights upon that Inquisitor.

Killing that Inquisitor may have jeopardized her long-term plans. Not killing the Inquisitor, however, may have jeopardized her plans in the short term.

She was—how did the _mon-keigh_put it—between a rock and a hard place.

But even when fate is working against her, when her plans could unravel simply because that fool Azrael could not keep his finger off the damned trigger, she would not give up.

She could not give up, for the fate of her entire race was in the balance.

With that thought, she came upon the camp of the Warp Spiders.

"Far Seer." A Warp Spider greeted her.

"Lead me to your Exarch." She was fortunate to have a Warp Spider Exarch in her force. She did not wish to belittle the abilities of her warriors—they were all fearless warriors who served the Craftworld with zero concern for their own safety—yet the task she was about to assign would daunt even the best of the best.

"Far Seer, you have need of me?" In a blink of an eye, the Exarch appeared in front of her and made a low bow.

"Indeed," Kirahla smiled and helped him up. "for I have seen the thread of fate, and must now send you to perform a very special errand."

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane woke up in a storage warehouse.<p>

It was 0400 hours on this planet. He was no Space Marine; he could only get some sleep inside storage warehouses when the businesses were closed. The past couple of days had given him plenty of time to reassess the situation, and he found the situation less and less amicable.

First, there was the problem with daemons and native psykers. It was a known fact that there were daemons on the planet. It was also known to him that there were native psykers on this planet—in the form of girls under 20 years of age, no less—combating these daemons and succeeding.

And it was something that he found hard to reconcile with his knowledge. The degree of skill that these psykers had at controlling their powers rivaled sanctioned psykers after decades of training and experience.

Their power levels, too, were worrisome: they were at least Theta-level psykers, judging from their power emissions. How, without proper training and conditioning, these psykers have not been possessed by Chaos was beyond him. Maybe it had something to do with the Warp Storm.

Second, there was the Eldar presence. Even without Dividus' auspex scan results, he knew that they were not the only ones on planet. The shot fired at him inside that abandoned building earlier that week was the only proof that he needed. Only the most powerful small arms from this planet would be able to blink out his refractor field in one shot, and that bullet was not even of human origin.

It was an Eldar Ranger, and a highly skilled one, at that. Maybe it was even a Pathfinder; but without sufficient information, Inquisitor Kane could not decide.

At least, if he knew that it was a Pathfinder, he would know that these are Alaitoc Eldar, and then he could estimate the possible agenda that they would have.

As it stands, Inquisitor Kane could not fathom the possible interests the Eldar would have on these undeveloped psykers and daemons. If the planet held much strategic importance to the Eldar, what with having three Titan-sized Webway gates on planet, they would have sent over a large force to scour the human population from the planet already.

Instead, as Dividus' auspex scan had pointed out, the Eldar had nothing but a small expeditionary force on planet, and they were content with fortifying their position under the shadow of one of their precious Gates instead of purging the human population outright.

Maybe they did not have the chance to usher their main invasion force over. The Webway Gates were all silent; none of them were active for transport. Maybe the technology of the Gates was so ancient that the Eldar could no longer repair them?

But, maybe they were interested in the daemons and psykers, after all? What sort of dastardly plans do they have in store for the poor souls on this planet? Experimentation? Extermination? Or something more sinister?

Without more information, without more intelligence, Inquisitor Kane could not decide. And that irked the heck out of him. Not knowing the enemy at all would one day be his undoing.

Third, and the most puzzling, was the psyker that he stumbled upon the other day, right before the Xeno attacked.

That psyker was no different from the others on the surface: she was a Xi-level psyker, just like everyone else.

But to the Inquisitor's finely-honed senses, she was different.

There appeared to be psychic power leaking out from her.

This is extremely unusual, especially amongst weakly psychic humans. Reports from other Ordo Malleus inquisitors, as well as from the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, indicated that only Delta-level psykers or above are capable of having natural psychic emanations, like the one he felt when he approached them.

Those psykers have almost always turned into Chaos portals or played host to a Greater Daemon when the Imperium found them. Planets, systems, and even subsectors were lost simply because one was not discovered and executed in time.

But his feelings contradicted the report. He knew instinctively that the girl was no more powerful than her peers. He knew that daemons would not even spare her a second look if they were looking for someone to possess, especially not when she was accompanied by a much more powerful psyker like that blonde girl.

Somehow, he just felt that the girl was not who she appeared to be. How she appeared so genuinely weak simply made no sense.

It was something that he needed to ponder, and though he very much wanted to consult his colleagues, due to the Warp Storm, he was on his own.

Rubbing his temples, he attempted to quell his headache to no avail. Once again cloaking himself, he slid out of the warehouse.

Despite his impatience, he would need more intelligence to determine his best course of action.

And coffee. He needed coffee.

Badly.

* * *

><p>"So, have you found a wish you want to make to become a Magical Girl yet?"<p>

Mami asked a seemingly offhand question as they returned from their Witch hunt for the night. They had been hunting witches like this for a couple of nights already; none turned up so far. All Mami managed to destroy were a few familiars hunting for people, and none of those drop Grief Seeds for her to replenish her magical power.

Even so, they could not leave the familiars around. Familiars, given enough food, would turn into witches like their masters.

Sayaka grunted with a hint of frustration: "Madoka, what about you?"

Madoka had had a lot of time to think about her wish. But, much to her frustration, she could not think of a single thing that she wanted to do.

Moreover, some things had been bothering her; questions and doubts still lingered in her mind, preventing her from deciding on a wish.

What kind of wish did Homura make?

The song that Homura sang when they met on the roof left a deep mark in her heart. Madoka recognized the lyrics and the melody: they were from the best-selling single of a popular idol group. Madoka also knew that it was not a sad song, but one filled with hope and love.

Why, then, do her eyes well up and her chest tighten every time she thought back to Homura's song?

How did it resonate with her so much that even now she could feel the emotions inside it?

"Well, that's normal, I guess." Mami had a small smile on her face. "I guess it's difficult to actually think of something very specific."

"What kind of wish did Miss Mami make?" Madoka blurted out the question. She needed a reference, something that she could go by when thinking about these kind of things. She needed guidance.

But she immediately regretted asking the question when Mami suddenly stopped in the middle of a bridge. The question seemed to have touched a sensitive place: "Um, uh, you don't have to tell us!"

Mami gave off an understanding smile. It was not like Madoka had intentionally poked the sore spot in her heart, so she had no need to feel offended or angry: "In my case, I..."

On that fateful day, she...

"... never had the time or the chance to think it through."

It all happened so quickly. There was a screeching of tires, and then there were thunderous bangs of things colliding with each other, dull grating of things being crushed, and the screaming of people young and old.

As her consciousness drifted away, he appeared in the window of her parents' car.

That day, for her, time was a luxury that she barely had.

"It's not like I regret it or anything." If not for him, she would very well have joined her parents. "I mean, my current way of life is much better than perishing right there and then.

"But, now that you have the option, I think..." She paused a moment, as if to ponder what she was about to say, "I think that you should carefully consider what you want to do."

Mami resumed walking on the bridge after a small sigh: "Especially... especially since I didn't get such an opportunity, you know?"

So, there's a sad story behind it after all; Madoka sniffled a little.

Sayaka was right; why did it have to be them? Why did Kyubey have to choose a pair of happy idiots like them?

Why could he not have chosen someone less fortunate, someone in much more dire straits, someone who actually needed the power of a wish? Why did he have to choose them?

"Um, Miss Mami, you know, does your wish have to be for yourself?"

It was Sayaka's turn to blurt out questions.

"Huh? What makes you ask that?" Mami was a little bit taken aback by the question.

"Like, hypothetically. You know, just hypothetically," Sayaka continued with a little stammer, "What if... what if there were someone worse off than me, and I want to use my wish for that person?"

"You mean Kamijou?" Madoka knew what happened to him. As sympathetic as she was toward his predicament, Madoka simply cannot bring herself to make a wish on his behalf.

Only Sayaka could do that. Only she who was madly in love with him could do that.

"God, I'm just speaking hypothetically!" Despite Sayaka's protests, Madoka knew that she was considering it seriously.

To love someone so much that she was willing to give up her life for him; how romantic!

"It's not necessary for the contractor herself to be the beneficiary of the wish." Kyubey validated Madoka's concern: Sayaka is really going to do it. "It's not like it hasn't happened before, either."

"But I can't say I like what you're thinking, though." Mami objected. "If you're planning to make a wish for someone else, then it's even more important that you consider what you really want."

Isn't that true for any wish, though? Madoka considered as Kyubey hopped into her arms again. Because there's the danger of losing our lives while fighting against a witch, isn't it normal to think about the thing we want to wish for, before we actually commit to it?

"Miss Miki. Do you want his wish to come true, or do you want him to be thankful that you are the one who made it possible?"

* * *

><p>And there it is.<p>

The line with a punch attached to it.

Sayaka almost scratched her head.

What _do _I want, exactly?

Do I want him to be happy? Or do I want to be the person who made him happy?

Isn't it an extremely selfish thing to do, wanting myself to be his savior?

But is that really what I want?

No. No, no, no, no, no. I don't want him to feel obligated to like me. I don't want to force him to like me. I don't want his gratitude.

What I want is his love. I want his affection, and I want him to give it to me freely, with no burden at all.

And yet, why does the second option seem more appealing?

"They almost sound the same, but they are completely different."

Mami is right. They are almost the same, but at the same time they are completely different. One is about him, and the other, about myself.

Am I that selfish a woman? Do I really want to have the wish help me win his heart?

"Isn't that a little harsh?" Sayaka's grip tightened around her schoolbag handle.

No, I'm not that selfish. I'm not that kind of despicable women.

I want him to be happy. That's it. I want him to be happy.

"I'm sorry about that," Mami smiled apologetically, "but I just want to get that out of the way. I think it's important for you to know the distinction before you make a decision, lest you regret it later."

Regret?

Sayaka made a simple sigh.

Would I regret my decision later?

Would I really regret it, if I had wished for his happiness?

Would I really enjoy it, if I had wished for him to be thankful?

Questions. Questions after questions, and no answer in sight.

"I guess you're right," Sayaka feigned a smile as her thoughts swirled in her brain, "I'm not thinking about this hard enough; sorry!"

There's still much for me to consider, after all.

Sayaka thought as they headed home.

* * *

><p>Homura tracked Mami to an open square.<p>

Neither her nor Mami required much rest. Sleeping, taking a bath, and eating were merely habits that stayed over after their contracts.

The lamps radiated soft orange light into the fog. The splashing of the water fountain in front of them drowned out the sounds of a night in spring.

Mami changed her Soul Gem into a ring. As a ring, she could carry it more conveniently and inconspicuously.

No doubt, she had heard my footsteps.

Homura was not particularly interested in shrouding her movements. Mami needs to know that Homura, too, was a seasoned Magical Girl, and a fight between them would only serve to advance the interests of the Witches.

Besides, Homura was not about to deplete her power through a useless fight with Mami. She had other plans in mind.

"You know that you are putting innocent civilians in danger, don't you?"

She should know. She was once one of those "innocent civilians". At the very least, she should still have some good left in her not to get Madoka too deeply involved.

"They've been chosen by Kyubey." Mami made a sharp turn to address Homura. "They are no longer 'innocent civilians', as you have put it."

"You are leading them into becoming Magical Girls."

"And that's what you don't like?"

Homura's lips tightened. Of course it was something that she hated.

No matter what, Madoka must not contract.

Homura will prevent it, by any means necessary.

Even if it means killing Mami.

"That's right. It's troublesome to me." If only Mami could understand her. If only... if only she knew the truth.

But no. If she had known the truth, she would be tempted to kill everyone, Madoka included. And that would be an unacceptable outcome.

"Especially Kaname Madoka." Homura whispered under her breath.

"Hmm. I see." Mami was amused. "So you've noticed her potential, as well."

Potential?

Of course, she has potential. Her potential would be the doom of the entire world, if Homura allowed things to stay the course.

"No matter what, I cannot allow her to contract."

"So, it's out of fear that someone more powerful than you will oppose you?"

No, that's not it!

"That way of thinking sounds like someone who's been bullied."

Shut up!

Homura's temper flared. Her eyes widened as she shot a severe glare at Mami. If looks could kill, Mami would have been dead by now, and she knew it, as she winced from the murderous stare.

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I do not need you of all people to remind me of...

Calm down, Homura. She does not yet know the truth.

When she does, she'll just start murdering everyone around her! She is nothing but a blind, deluded fool! She intends to trample over my hope to save this planet! She intends to spit on my battered pride as a Magical Girl! She should be dead!

No, Homura. I have to collect myself. I need her, don't I? I want her to be on my side when the final judgment comes. I want her with me and not against me.

Even when she is intent on having Madoka contract?

At least, I could do something about that. I could step in and prevent her from contracting if it is ever required.

"I have no intentions to fight you." Homura flicked her hair with her trembling hand. It was a last, desperate plea for peace.

"In that case, you need to work hard to avoid running into me again. I'm sure this is the last night we'll end this with talking."

With that, Mami walked off into the distance.

Nice handling there, Homura! I really made her think that I'm on her side!

Good job!

What am I going to do now?

Homura grunted.

* * *

><p>The night was silent and serene.<p>

Madoka had already finished her schoolwork. With not much else to do, she grabbed the notebook on which she designed her dress, and lay down on her bed.

"They almost sound the same, but they are completely different."

Mami's words echoed inside Madoka's head. She knew that Mami was speaking the truth. And Mami, being the actual Magical Girl among the trio, probably knew more about the sacrifices one had to make to be a Magical Girl better than either Madoka or Sayaka.

And thus, there must be perfectly valid reasons for her to say that.

Madoka was not concerned about others, anyway; everyone she knows and loves are living really happily and there is no place for her wish anywhere.

"It's really not that simple, is it?" She muttered to Kyubey as he hopped onto her bed beside her.

"Considering my position, I can't really push you to make a choice, either." He replied, "Giving you suggestions is considered a violation of the rules, too."

So there are rules for him, after all.

"I wonder if just wanting to become one is good enough..." Because I really don't have anything to wish for at the moment...

"Madoka, are you just after the power of a Magical Girl?"

Power?

"No, that's not what I mean... well..."

Wait...

Madoka tilted her head in thought.

Miss Mami contracted, and she now has the power to protect everyone from the Witches.

Maybe, if I get the power, I could be less of a burden on everyone, and actually be of some use! Even if they don't know about me, or the things I do for them, I could rest easier knowing that I'm the one saving everyone from the witches!

"If... if I could become like Miss Mami, I think I'd be really happy." She settled on this reply.

Kyubey wagged his tail. Does that mean that he's happy?

"If you decide to become a Magical Girl, you'll be much more powerful than Mami."

"Huh?"

What does he mean?

More powerful than Miss Mami...

How powerful is that, exactly?

"Of course it also depends on your wish," Kyubey continued as he stared back into Madoka's puzzled eyes, "but even I cannot estimate how large of a Soul Gem you might produce. I've never met a girl with such potential before."

That means I'm the most powerful girl in the history of the world?

Me? A good-for-nothing little girl? The most powerful single person in the world?

"What are you talking about?" It is, indeed, a little hard to believe."You have got to be joking."

Kyubey was about to explain, when there was a knock on the door.

* * *

><p>"I wonder why Mom likes working so much."<p>

Her mother, Kaname Junko, was found lying on her back and reeking of alcohol. It was not exactly something new; she would return home form a social event at least once a week, and every time she would be drunk like this.

It's a wonder how her liver's still functioning at all, Madoka mused while staring at the cup of hot chocolate in front of her.

She spends too much time with her colleagues to have time for us, even when...

"Working at that company isn't her career goal, is it?" With some hesitation, she asked her dad, Kaname Tomohisa.

"Hmm... Your mother doesn't like working. She likes working hard." How does getting drunk at a social event mean "working hard"? But then again, she did say that socializing with her colleagues is a great way of getting what she wants when they are at work. "There are a lot of things that she doesn't like, or things that are pretty tough even for her, but she just loves the satisfaction that she gets by overcoming them."

Satisfaction, huh.

Had Madoka ever encountered something like that?

That time, when she got a personal best on her test averages... she was really happy.

That other time, when she actually came in second for running the 50 meter dash in the school athletic tournament, she was really happy.

Maybe that could be on par with the "satisfaction" Mom seems to get?

Madoka quietly sipped her hot chocolate. She's still too young, she decided; she did not have enough experience to understand just what drove her mother to do what she does right now.

And that confidence, too. Madoka always wished to have some of that confidence that her mother had. Such strength! If only she had a little of that...

"It wasn't like her dream was to work for some company," Her father continued, "but still, she's living how she likes to live. Some dreams can come true like that, you know?"

So her dream was to live how she likes to live: "So you can make how you live your dream?"

Am I living how I like to live?

Madoka quietly turned the cup around in its saucer. No matter how she looked at it, she is plain: plain in academics, plain in sports, plain in hobbies, even plain in looks, she had nothing special. And her life was nothing special, either: she goes to school in the morning, has lectures, has lunch with Sayaka, more lectures, goes home, does homework, and then she goes to bed.

It was plain. Everything was plain.

Until Mami and Kyubey showed up, that is.

Now that she was involved, she could really use this opportunity to make herself feel better about the situation. She could get power...

"Are you just after the power of a Magical Girl?"

Kyubey's question echoed in Madoka's head as her thoughts wandered. No, she was not after the power, Madoka decided; she was not a power-hungry maniac that craved it.

But maybe, just maybe, with that power, she could stop being so ordinary, so plain, so unremarkable? She could stand up to the world, and yell with a straight face at the top of her lungs, "I'M PROTECTING ALL OF YOU!"

Even when what she does is unlikely to be acknowledged by uninvolved people?

"I'm sure there are lots of people who will disagree, but it's one of the things that I like about your mother." Her father stood up, "I can respect that, and I can take pride in it. I can tell others with confidence that she's a wonderful person."

Of course. Why else would Dad marry Mom?

"Yeah."

But is living the life Madoka wants the dream for her?

Right then, life was not so bad for her. She had friends—Sayaka and Hitomi—and she had a caring mentor, Mami. She could eat delicious food when she got home, and she did not need to worry too much about performing badly in school.

What should she wish for, then?

Madoka held her cup of hot chocolate in her hand.

* * *

><p>Azrael exited the Far Seer's tent. This was the first time he had returned to camp after they made landfall on this planet.<p>

He required very little sustenance, but even he could not carry enough to sustain his operations for ever.

It meant that he had to see the face of that Kirahla, again. And he did not like it one bit.

How could the Craftworld pair him with such a... undisciplined Seer?

If their mission was of vital importance, why did the Craftworld not send their most respected Far Seer and their most elite warriors, and instead sent her of all people with such a paltry force onto this planet?

And these visions of the future...

Azrael could hardly believe what Kirahla spouted forth from her mouth.

She had _got _to be kidding me, he thought.

This entire situation is ridiculous! And her plans...

"You have no place to question my plan." She said. "All you need to do is to carry out my orders to the letter."

That was unusually strict of her. Either she was fed up with him—good, because he was with her, too—or the visions she saw were the _best_ outcome instead of the worst.

Azrael shuddered at the thought. Even though he hated the _mon-keigh_ with his guts, these visions were way too surreal for him to put that grudge above them.

It did not matter how much he hated this entire thing. The Far Seer's solution was the best, and he knew it.

By Khaine, I _hate_ my job; he cursed.

* * *

><p>"You've said that you can make all of this right again, haven't you?"<p>

Yes, I have!

"Could you save my stupid self before I get tricked into this?"

I promise! I'll save you! No matter how many times, I will save you!

"And I can... die happy... AUGH!"

No, stay with me! Stay with me!

"Could I... ask you one more thing?"

Yes... anything...

"I... don't want... to...! Shoot me... before..."

No... no... no, no, no, no, no! I... I can't...

"Please... That's..."

NO! I... I can't... I can't do it... I CAN'T!

"At least... send me off... with some dignity..."

I... I...!

AAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Homura woke up with a scream.

Both her sheets and her blankets were drenched in sweat. Her head pulsed with pain. With a shaky wave of her Soul Gem, the pain went away.

But the ache in her heart remained. Trying to calm her racing heart, she took a few deep breaths as she walked to the bathroom.

"The same dream again." The voice echoed. "The events right before I found you."

"Yes." Homura answered as she splashed some cold water on her face. She was wearing nothing but a set of lingerie, but she paid little care to that.

"There are things haunting you, my child; the Warp has taken a great interest in you."

"Is that why I'm having dreams like this?" Homura wiped her face with a towel. "Can't you make this go away?"

"The dreams of a psyker could be more vivid than a common person, yes." The voice explained. "But the dreams themselves are not caused by the Warp; thus, you must deal with your own demons in order to make the night easier."

"Easier said than done." Those memories, those torturous memories, were what kept Homura going. Even though each piece was more painful than the previous, and each cycle had given Homura more despair than ever, only her kindness and her love in those memories kept Homura on this path.

"Pain is part of growing up, my child. It is the cost of becoming an adult."

"Normal girls don't go through this much pain."

"Then again, you are not a normal girl."

Homura smiled. Indeed, she was not a normal girl.

"The conversation with Mami today was worse than I expected."

"It was. Though I laud your courage in confronting her multiple times, your... finesse required more work."

"The next time we meet, she will fight me."

"Then, take care not to encounter her. I trust that you are aware of the fateful event that is about to happen, my child?"

"Yes."

"It is, then, even more imperative that you plan your moves ahead of time. An encounter with her inside the barrier will prove disastrous for her, at least, and we do need her alive."

"If it serves to dissuade her apprentices from contracting, then her death would have some meaning."

"But then, your options are limited to the other Magical Girl, and her death does not necessarily mark the end of our journey. Therefore, the best course of action is to dispose of that Witch before Mami could intervene."

"That is true."

"Now, get some sleep. It is going to be a long day tomorrow, my child."


	9. VIII: I'm Not Afraid of Anything Anymore

Author's Notes:

It's been a while since I updated this story, but it is not yet dead. Here's the rest of Episode 3, and Mami's fate will be revealed at the end of the chapter.

Please read and review!

P.S. a person evaluating to Xi (or Chi)-level on the Assignment scale is weakly psychic.

* * *

><p>Madoka ran as fast as she could.<p>

Just moments ago, she and Sayaka found a Grief Seed pinned on the wall of the hospital. It was the very hospital where Kamijou was staying.

Sayaka volunteered to stay with it so that Mami could find it and eliminate it as fast as possible. Kyubey volunteered to stay with Sayaka to make sure she was safe. But all of the lives—Sayaka, of Kamijou, and all the patients inside the hospital—hinged upon how quickly Madoka could find Mami.

She should have asked for Miss Mami's cellphone number, Madoka thought with a pang of regret as she sprinted down the streets.

* * *

><p>Sayaka trod slowly and carefully with Kyubey in her arms, the clicks of her feet reverberating throughout the strange space.<p>

Surrounding her was another psychedelic maze, much like the one that the first Witch had, but the motifs were different.

First, there were medical instruments: scalpels, syringes, scissors, and all kinds of sharp instruments seen in a hospital. They were scattered about in piles of disorganized mess, like the aftermath of a child's violent tantrum.

This must be the result of where the Barrier is, Sayaka thought. Since the barrier opened around a hospital, it was natural to have so many images of hospital-related objects scattered around it.

But then, she also noticed something strange. Mixed amongst the dull and lifeless medical instruments, there were odd bits and pieces—candies and sweets, wrapped in cheerful colors. Occasionally, a familiar in the shape of a cinnamon roll would come around and scurry off with a piece of candy, totally oblivious to Sayaka's presence

Sweet scents of fruits and cream icing surrounded Sayaka as she took another step. The scent entangled with the smell of medical alcohol and sickly decay, producing a strange mixture of fragrance.

It reminded her of Kamijou's room. The scent was identical: the scent of antiseptic mixed with the faint fragrance of flowers and fruits. It reminded her of him. His scent was different; it was the fresh smell of detergent, mixed with a whiff that she could only describe as "him".

Would he be all right?

Would Mami and Madoka get here in time to save him?

Would she have to become a Magical Girl in order to save his life?

"Are you afraid, Sayaka?" Kyubey asked with some concern.

"Well, yeah, of course I am." But she was not afraid of her life. She was more concerned with Kamijou's.

"If you can come up with a wish, I can turn you into a Magical Girl right here." Kyubey offered.

If she became a Magical Girl, she would be able to protect him with her own life. Witches would never threaten him again. She would never have to fear for his life again.

But then…

"I think you should carefully consider what you do." Mami's voice echoed in her head as her thoughts ran.

But he was not in danger just yet, Sayaka thought. Becoming a Magical Girl at this time would not be the smartest thing to do. Even though she had an idea of her wish, she was still unsure whether or not she wanted to make it. Besides, she was not yet in danger of being devoured by a Witch, nor would she be, if Mami could come quickly.

"Do you want his wish to come true, or do you want him to be thankful that you are the one who made it possible?"

After all, his happiness is my happiness, right…?

Sayaka stared thoughtfully at the huge flashing "Operating" sign in front of her. Behind the cast-iron trellised gate, the Grief Seed pulsated with the sign in ominous unity, and with each pulse, Sayaka could feel herself overwhelmed by the unholy scent from it.

"Yeah, I'll ask you when it's necessary." Sayaka stared intently at the Grief Seed, "But for now, I'll pass on that."

It is one of the most important decisions I have to make, after all, Sayaka thought.

* * *

><p>Hitomi watched as Madoka came back with the blonde-haired girl in the upper year. There was a flash of golden light, and then both of them walked through the hospital wall at the same spot that Sayaka entered a few moments earlier.<p>

She tried to suppress her feelings of disbelief. After all, these girls—her closest friends—were associated with something as improbable as magic and witches. And when the supernatural was involved, there would be no such thing as "impossible".

She approached the spot on the wall into which her friends vanished, but her footsteps slowed as a strange sense of dread overwhelmed her. It was as if her body and her subconscious were telling her not to approach it, and that getting involved with Madoka and Sayaka would certainly be lethal.

She tried to take her mind off of her fear, and her body shuddered. Despite it being spring, she could see her own breath materialize into a white mist in front of her.

Slowly she realized that her hands had become numb from the cold. A thin layer of white frost now covered the spot on the wall into which Madoka and Sayaka entered, and the entire area had become unusually cold.

Are Madoka and Sayaka going to be all right?

Hitomi made one torturous step after another. The more she approached the frost-covered spot on the wall, the heavier her feet became. Her fear and dread made her stay her feet, and for all the willpower she mustered, she could only take smaller and smaller steps toward the spot.

Hitomi reached her hand out to touch the thin layer of frost on the wall. The coldness sent electricity running along her arm straight to her head. The sensation was so powerful that she kneeled down in front of the spot, her arms and legs shaking uncontrollably as sweat dripped and froze on the ground.

"Come…"

A sweet whisper echoed in her brain, and stabbing pain all over her scalp almost made her scream. The scent of flowers and fruits from the spot on the wall only affirmed her suspicion that this was a pot of honey at the center of a trap.

"Come…"

The whisper changed its tone, and Hitomi was surprised when she identified both Madoka and Sayaka's voice in her mind.

Even as her sanity screamed not to approach, she slowly crawled toward it.

"Come… and join us."

The whisper commanded.

"Come and… join us."

Just what had those two gotten themselves into?

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane instinctively sensed the gathering of Warp energy and made his way carefully toward the source.<p>

It was unlike the last time he encountered a similar concentration of Warp energy at that abandoned building. For one, the power was weaker this time, but it had been steadily growing ever since he felt it.

He could not be the only one that had detected that presence, Kane thought.

If he could make to the position quickly, he may catch the blonde-haired psyker, or the pink-haired anomaly. Then, he would bring them to the _Invicta_ for some interrogation. First, he must remove the possibility that these developed psykers are tainted. And if they were not, he must find the cause of their resistance to the Taint.

If this were indeed a planet of Taint-resistant psykers, he could be hailed as the greatest Inquisitor of all time. This could be the single step needed to push humanity to the next stage of its evolution, and it could turn the tide against Chaos and its minions.

With those thoughts, he approached the hospital, and immediately he smelled the mixed scent of flowers and fruits, strong even though there was a breeze in the street.

Glancing around, he found that none of the passerby had noticed the smell; at least, they seemed not at all affected by the presence of it. He was certain that it only existed in his mind and that there was no actual fragrance in the air.

And then, he noticed the olive-haired girl he met last time, kneeling on the ground in front of a wall.

Did she notice the anomaly as well?

Inquisitor Kane was intrigued. In theory, she was no different from all the other humans on this planet, and since they were not affected by the anomaly, neither should she.

But why can she perceive it?

She panted heavily, with puffs of white cloud coming out from her mouth. To Kane, it was clear that she was at her limit in resisting the Taint.

Without half a moment of hesitation, Kane burst forth from his hiding spot, his Rosario in hand. She would lose grasp on her sanity at any moment without his help.

"Back, you wretched fiend! Back to the decrepit pit of the Warp with you! You shall not claim another soul today! In the Emperor's name, go back to whence you came!"

He spoke as he held the Rosario above the girl's head.

* * *

><p>Hitomi felt the load on her mind lighten significantly. The tearing and rending on her brain stopped altogether, and she let out a sigh of relief.<p>

Towering above her was the strange man she met last time when she stalked Sayaka to the abandoned building, and in his hand there was a soft golden ball of light, showering her with warmth and comfort.

"Can you stand?" The man asked, again in her mind. Unlike the last time, the pain on her mind lightened somewhat.

"… Yes_._" She responded verbally, as she collected herself. He seemed to have no ill will toward her. "Thank you."

What was his name again?

Hitomi scratched her head a little trying to think up the name of the man in front of her.

"It is Gideon Kane, child; Gideon Kane of the Emperor's Holy Inquisition." The voice echoed in her skull again with some irritation, and Hitomi winced. Since he was able to speak to her through her mind, it was no wonder that he could read it as well.

Then, he knew about Sayaka and Madoka inside the barrier.

"I must go and find them." Hitomi once again touched the patch of ice. The whispers came back for a split second, but they immediately disappeared. "I have to go find Sayaka and Madoka. I have to get inside."

"The concern for your friends' safety is admirable." Kane turned to face the spot of frost on the wall, "however, you will not be able to resist the Taint without help once you are inside the daemon's barrier."

He was curious. What made this girl—this Hitomi Shizuki—different from the rest of the population? Maybe he could get some answers out of her without resorting to the Nine Actions, as she seemed cooperative and willing enough.

"Then, will you help me, Mr. Kane?"

Kane read only determination in Hitomi's eyes. She would not take "no" for an answer.

He sighed. Such determination was certainly a desirable quality for an Inquisitor, but the fierce loyalty to her friends would only be leverage for Chaos to corrupt her should she become one.

But at the moment, she was his closest link to the pinked-haired girl, Madoka, not to mention that she herself could be an excellent source of knowledge.

"Very well." He held the Rosario up facing the patch of frost. Where the golden light showered, a twisted purple shadow appeared. "In the name of the Emperor, I command thee, foul spawn of Chaos! Open thy realm to me!"

To Hitomi's amazement, the twisted purple shadow formed into a strange symbol, one with the sun on one end and the crescent moon on the other, with a bar over a crescent connecting them in the middle. The edge of the frost was encircled with a thin line of purple shadow, as well.

But simply looking at the symbol was painful. Hitomi averted her eyes; it was surprising to her that a mere symbol would cause her head to spin.

"Let His light be your guide." The Inquisitor dangled the glowing Rosario in front of Hitomi, and the pain on her head lessened. "Have faith in Him, and no corruption shall befall you."

"We've got no time to waste." With her eyes trained on the Rosario, Hitomi waded into the blackened symbol.

* * *

><p>Out of all times… now!<p>

Homura took in a sharp breath of air when she saw Mami in front of her.

She wanted to hide her presence. She wanted to avoid her altogether, and eliminate the Witch before it could throw a wrench in her plans.

"I thought I said I didn't want to see you again."

Neither did I, Tomoe Mami, but this is necessary; Homura sighed as she steeled her resolve. "I'll take down the Witch this time. You two, withdraw."

"I'm afraid I can't do that." Mami was adamant. "We need to get Miss Miki and Kyubey."

Stubborn fool!

"I promise their safe return." Well, maybe not the white rat; Homura stared into Mami's golden eyes. All she could read was hostility.

"You think I'd trust you?"

It's not a matter of trust! It's—!

Before Homura could respond, ribbons and chains wrapped around her body like a cocoon and forcibly hoisted her into mid-air.

Damn it!

"You idiot!" Homura cried out in frustration, "Now isn't the time for petty grudges!"

"I don't plan on letting you get hurt," Mami's victorious smirk was about to drive Homura into rage, "but if you struggle too much, I won't be able to guarantee your well-being."

You ignorant fool! The one who should be worried about her well-being is you!

"This Witch is different than what you've faced before!"

"If you sit still like a good girl, I'll let you out when I come back." That smirk only grew wider. "Let's go, Miss Kaname."

"Wait!" Homura's eyes met Madoka's for one last time as the ribbons tightened further, almost constricting her chest.

That pain was nothing, though.

If she left them on their way, they would never come back.

Her helplessness carved at her heart like a dull knife.

* * *

><p>Madoka focused on the warmth of Mami's hand as she was pulled through the weird space.<p>

Around her, bottles of strangely labeled drugs floated in the twisted space that was the Witch's barrier. Lying around on the ground were various sweets, such as cookies and candy.

Truly a strange combination, Madoka thought. But what unnerved her more was the silence: other than their monotonous footsteps, there was no other sound to be heard.

"Um, Miss Mami…" Madoka attempted to strike a conversation. Her already tense nerves were strained to the limit by the silence; she had to break it somehow.

"What is it?"

"I've thought about my wish a lot, and…" Madoka felt Mami's grip tighten a little. She knew that she had Mami's attention.

"Do you think you know what to pick?"

"Yeah… but…" Madoka was afraid to tell her. "But I think you might get mad at me for not thinking hard enough."

Plain. Average. Normal. Those were all appropriate words to describe Madoka, and she knew it. She had no specialties. She had average looks, average height, average build, average grades, and average hobbies. She would never stand out in a crowd, even if her life depended on it.

Around the athletically active Sayaka and the academically excellent Hitomi, she felt useless. Around her capable mother and her loving father, she felt useless.

"What wish do you plan on having granted?"

"I've never had anything that I'm good at or anything that I could be proud of." Madoka continued with some hesitation. Maybe Miss Mami would really get mad at her for not thinking hard enough? "And I keep thinking that if I live on like this I'd never be useful to anyone. I hate that."

What if she could change that? What if becoming a Magical Girl would give her purpose, and make her feel useful for once? What if her only wish was to become just like Mami, who fought in secret to protect everyone?

"So, if I become a Magical Girl, that'll be my wish." Madoka finally finished as they walked over a bridge with handrails made from licorice sticks and lit by birthday candles. "If even someone like me can help people and be proud of that, that's the best wish I'll ever have.

Mami let go of Madoka's hand.

Was she unhappy? Was she angry? Madoka's heart jumped like a restless rabbit, pounding her small chest as it tightened.

"It's not easy, you know." Mami spoke without sparing Madoka a glance, "You get hurt, and you don't have time to fall in love or hang out with friends, either."

Madoka knew it would be hard. Madoka knew that she would get hurt. Madoka knew that she would give her life to fighting Witches, and have no time for anything else.

"But I really want to be like you after seeing you try so hard despite all that!"

Knowing that she is useful meant more to Madoka than anything in the world.

* * *

><p>"You wouldn't want to be like me."<p>

Mami stopped at the door to the Witch's inner sanctum.

"I'm… just trying to act cool."

Before she met Sayaka and Madoka, she had always been alone.

Kyubey could not save her parents. Kyubey could not help her get her life back.

Sometimes, she wished that she died in that car crash, that she never got to survive because of Kyubey.

It was not fair. She should not have gotten to live. There were so many people more deserving of this second chance, so many people that could use this gift better than she had.

"No matter how scary it is, how hard it is, I can't talk to anyone about it. All I could do is to cry alone."

And who would believe her? That she was fighting eldritch abominations to try and reduce the number of _suicides_? That she got all beaten up defending people she had never met before in her life? She was a Magical Girl, but she was no saint.

"Being a Magical Girl isn't good at all!"

If she could make the choice all over, she might have just chosen to die with her parents inside that car. Then there would be no more pain or suffering. There would be no more sobbing alone at night, no more dragging her broken body back to her apartment, and no more solitary walks around the city.

"But you're not alone any more, Miss Mami."

… If Madoka and Sayaka both become Magical Girls, Mami would have allies in the fight against the Witches.

Perhaps even more importantly, she would have _companions_. She could talk to them when she felt sad, and she could rely on them in battle. They would understand her pain, and share her suffering. They would revel with her in victory, and enjoy with her happiness.

They would be _comrades_.

"Will you really fight with me from now on?"

Tears welled up in Mami's eyes as she spun around and grabbed Madoka's hands.

For the first time in her life, she found a true friend.

"Will you stay by my side?"

"Yes, if you would have me."

Tomoe Mami was happy.

* * *

><p>This was the first time Madoka saw Mami cry.<p>

But she knew it was tears of joy, and not sadness.

"Oh, my, I lost my cool in front of my student." She said with a hint of playfulness while wiping her tears away. "I guess I'm not that great after all."

Miss Mami had finally accepted her as a friend, instead of just a student.

Madoka was happy, as well. Happy that she could finally find some purpose in life.

"But since you have the chance, you should think of something for your wish."

But I wish for nothing more than to be like you, Miss Mami; Madoka scratched her head.

"Well, a contract is a contract, so you might as well get something out of it." Mami continued while making frenzied hand gestures, "Make yourself super rich, or get yourself the perfect boyfriend, or something like that."

Why would I want a boyfriend? And money? I simply want to be like you, Miss Mami! Madoka thought.

"How about this? If, by the time I beat this Witch, you haven't thought of anything to wish for, you'll have to wish for the nicest, most extravagant party cake you can ever imagine!"

Wait, what?

"Then, we'll have a party, to celebrate the tag team of Madoka and I!"

"Wait… I'm going to become a Magical Girl over cake!"

"If you don't like it, then come up with something yourself!"

… She is harsh, isn't she?

Madoka almost wanted to cry.

* * *

><p>What was this place?<p>

Hitomi was amazed as she glanced around the piles of spent syringes and empty pill bottles.

"This is the daemon spawn's barrier." The Inquisitor's voice echoed inside her mind. It still sent stabbing and throbbing pain everywhere in her skull, but it was nowhere near as unbearable as their encounter at that abandoned building. "Apparently, the daemon inside has not yet matured."

"Why do you still talk to me through my mind when there's no one around?" Hitomi wondered out loud, "It hurts when you do that."

Intriguing, the Inquisitor thought; during their last encounter at the abandoned building, she could not even stand when he talked to her telepathically. What changed in her that caused the pain to ease?

"You cannot understand my tongue, and neither can I understand yours." He answered quietly, "And it seems like you have no knowledge of the Taint or the Warp."

"Are they related to Sayaka and Madoka?" Hitomi kicked a pill bottle with her foot, and it bounced away into a pile of cookies.

"Perhaps. If they are indeed tainted, I would have little choice but to put them down."

"You can't do that!" Hitomi blurted out as she dashed out from under the Inquisitor's cloak and stood in front of him. "I won't allow you!"

Without a single moment of hesitation, Kane drew his bolt pistol and lined up a shot at Hitomi's forehead. Her eyes widened as she stared down the black muzzle of the enormous hand gun, her legs quivering in fear.

"When that time comes, you will not be able to stop me." Kane turned the pistol horizontally, before putting it away. "But you do not understand my actions, because you do not yet comprehend the gravity of the situation."

"Then explain to me! Tell me about this Taint and this Warp!"

Fire burned in her eyes, the fire of grim determination and steadfast resolve. She was a girl—nay, a woman—seeking to understand what she could not, to better protect her friends.

Whether or not it would ultimately lead to her downfall was open to interpretation, but she was young and she was malleable.

"Since you have already witnessed this, I suppose there is no harm in letting you know the basics." The Inquisitor grabbed Hitomi by her shoulder as he sheltered her yet again with his cloak. "The Warp is your worst nightmare, and the Taint makes you live it for the rest of your life, and even after it. But now is not the time for a lesson; we must find the center of this aberration and deal with it once and for all, before your friends are overcome."

Hitomi grunted. The Inquisitor's words were too fantastical to be true; but then again, so was the twisted space of pills and cookies around them. At the moment, she could no longer afford hesitation based simply on disbelief of outlandish claims.

Swallowing her questions, she walked with the Inquisitor again.

"We are close. Prepare yourself; daemons are not meant for mortal eyes."

* * *

><p>"One of my servants is nearby."<p>

Homura stopped struggling. The bindings around her were designed such that the more she struggle, the tighter they became. She could barely breathe as it was, and her ribs were creaking in pain.

"Can he help me out of this bind?"

Think, Homura! Think!

Her mind raced. If she did not get out of this bondage quickly and race to the Witch's location, she would not only lose Mami, but Sayaka and… and Madoka, as well.

Unacceptable.

To her, that was the most unacceptable outcome.

"Calm down, child."

"How the hell can I be calm right now?" She screamed. "Tell me, can he help me out!"

"No, he cannot."

"Then why the hell are you wasting my time!"

The voice fell silent as Homura's brain spun. Her transformation would not work if she was restrained like this, and so far her magic proved to be useless on these chains. Mami constructed them specifically for her, it seemed.

A slight struggle made the bindings tighter on her as Homura let out a howl of frustration. Any more movements inside these binds, and they would crush her chest. Even though she would not die from some broken ribs, she must then expend valuable magical energy to repair her wounds.

"Hey." She called out inside, in search of the voice. "Hey, are you there?"

"Yes." He responded simply. Homura could hear the dissatisfaction in his voice.

"Um, I'm sorry that I…"

"No need." He interrupted, much to Homura's surprise. "A father must always forgive his children, as I have learned from lessons past."

"I need to be free in order to save Madoka. Will you help me?" Homura pleaded.

"Yes. Pray to me." He stated, to Homura's surprise. "If I were to manifest here, it would drain too much of your power. You must pray to me in order to borrow a fragment of my power."

There was no time to waste.

"Calm yourself, and pray with the utmost dedication and humility. Only then will my half on the Golden Throne hear your pleas. Only when you have appealed enough to its pride and arrogance, will it answer your prayer."

Homura closed her eyes as she muttered: "Oh Immortal Emperor of Mankind, your humble servant is in need of your assistance! Oh Emperor, whose light shines brighter than a thousand suns, whose brilliance pierces through even the darkest of shadows, aid me in your service!"

The bindings miraculously loosened a little. Feeling the pressure on her body ease, Homura continued her prayer: "Oh Emperor, aid this one on her quest to fulfill your will! Shatter these bonds with your divine power, so that this most humble servant may continue to serve!"

With a sound like glass shattering, the ribbons and chains broke apart and Homura dropped to the ground with a grunt.

Without a moment's hesitation, she regained her stance and dashed forward toward the Witch's sanctum.

There were many questions that she wanted to ask him, but those could always wait until after this crisis was averted.

* * *

><p>There was something different in Mami's dance of battle today.<p>

Madoka thought as she took cover behind a large donut beside Sayaka.

Not only were her steps lighter, she also moved faster and with more grace than before.

But there was something off about it. Madoka could not put her fingers on exactly what was off, only that something was wrong. She seemed more reckless than before. Mami had always measured every movement she made while in battle, her whirling dance precise and deadly.

Today, though, she charged in without a moment's hesitation after seeing the Witch. With one fell swoop, she smashed the tall chair on which it sat, and then proceeded to shoot several bullets into it.

Madoka could not help but find it strange that the Witch made no attempt of resistance at all. The last Witch that Mami fought tried its best to dodge Mami's enfilade of fire, and used everything at its disposal to fight back.

Maybe it was because this one was just newly hatched and did not have a handle on its power yet, Madoka thought. Or maybe the show of weakness was all part of the Witch's plan.

And just at that moment, Mami fired her Tiro Finale shot into the witch, straight through its center.

She's done it—!

Both Madoka and Sayaka sprang up from behind the donut.

* * *

><p>Pathfinder Azrael shouldered his rifle.<p>

He hated this job.

The barrier around him gave him the chills. It did not help that this barrier was created by a spawn of the Great Enemy. He had been through countless battles with Chaos and their spawns, but this was the first time he was this close to a spawn of the Great Serpent.

"Stay calm, Pathfinder." Far Seer Kirahla's voice echoed inside his brain and Azrael was dismayed. It was truly a pity that almost nothing could disrupt the psychic communication between two Eldar, and especially not between a Far Seer and him.

"What you must now do is crucial for both our Craftworld and for the Eldar race as a whole."

Even if she says that…!

With some reluctance he aimed down the sights.

"Is the Exarch in place?" He saw a dancing figure, the blonde-haired _mon-keigh_ with ancient firearms, putting a fusillade of fire into the daemon.

But even he—who was not psychically gifted amongst Eldar—knew that the doll-like object was not the true daemon. It was something far more sinister, something that a low-life _mon-keigh_ would not understand.

The acrobatic performance was less than entertaining. Soon it stopped dancing, and fired a large cannon at the doll.

This would be the _mon-keigh_'s doom, Azrael thought as he steadied his breath.

"I am in position." The Exarch chimed in psychically.

Every piece of the game was in place.

He slowly curled his finger around his rifle's trigger, as a huge tongue burst forth from the doll's mouth.

"On my mark."

He breathed, as his finger pulled the trigger.

"Mark."

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane burst through the wall of the daemon's inner sanctum, and all he saw was the daemon chomping down on the blonde-haired girl.<p>

He saw the daemon's form, and it astounded him. There was never any record of such a daemon of Slaanesh in Ordo Malleus. For all of the knowledge about Chaos the Inquisitor possessed, he was dumbfounded.

But he had no time to ponder this, as Hitomi's shrill scream reminded him of the current situation. Quickly he examined the psychic presence in the hall, and he not only found Sayaka and Madoka, but also the white rat, and… two Eldar.

What was more, one of the Eldar seemed to have another presence with them. It felt similar to the yellow-haired girl, but he could not be certain.

And then, there was another, right beside him.

Before he could pull out his bolt pistol, the girl—one with flowing black hair—raised her hand and spoke _into his mind: _"I will handle this."

It was then that he noticed the Rosette she wore on a necklace.

* * *

><p>Hitomi!<p>

Madoka heard the scream and turned her head.

Even though her brain was still blank from shock, she recognized Hitomi's olive-green hair.

Why is she here!

She should never have known about Magical Girls and Witches! Unless…

Unless Kyubey talked to her about it.

But Kyubey's with us! How could she find the barrier, enter it and…

The creature that just devoured Mami turned its ugly head toward them.

"Madoka! Sayaka! Decide on your wishes!" Kyubey yelled. "Hurry! Before it attacks!"

If I don't become a Magical Girl here… I will… I will…!

"That won't be necessary."

With a gentle boot click, Homura landed in front of the monster, her long black hair fluttering as she took her stance.

"I will take care of her."

She looked almost insignificant in front of the Witch, and yet somehow Madoka knew that she would be able to defeat it.

Homura's dance could not be more different from Mami's. There was no athletic display, no flashy gun play, and no calling out attacks. Everything was simple and clean, her movements precise to less than an inch, her timing accurate to the second.

To other bystanders, this dance would even be called "boring", but Madoka knew better.

This was Homura's song, her life shining the brightest with her every move.

This was her hour.

Every time the monster chomped down, Homura somehow appeared at another place, only missing the monster by inches. She was using the same tactics as it used on Mami before; she was goading it into recklessness for it to reveal its weakness to her. And when it eventually did, she would deal it a fatal blow.

Explosions echoed across the cavernous sanctum as one went off after another on the Witch. It attempted to shed layers after layers of skin like a snake, but a new explosion blew the skin wide open every time.

And finally, as it stared at Homura with burning hatred, its head exploded into a billion pieces.

The Witch that murdered Mami was dead.

* * *

><p>"It looks like you two were able to escape with your lives intact."<p>

Homura tried to maintain her facial expression as she stood in front of Sayaka and Madoka.  
>It was obvious that they feared for their lives, and if it were not for her timely arrival, they might as well have died.<p>

No more, Homura thought as she gritted her teeth. No more deaths. No more tears. No more cycles.

"Burn this moment into your eyes." She stared deep into Madoka's eyes.

She was afraid, thought Homura; Madoka was so scared that she could barely move.

Oh, how she wanted to embrace Madoka and tell her everything would be all right!

But no, it was not the time for that. There was no greater fear in the human mind than the fear of death. Maybe… maybe she could use this situation to her advantage, and persuade Madoka not to become a Magical Girl once and for all.

"This… is what happens when you become a Magical Girl."

The barrier slowly dissipated as the Grief Seed landed in front of Homura.

"Give that back." Sayaka's cries reached Homura at the same time she picked the Grief Seed up.

Homura was irritated: what does she want now?

"Give that back!" Madoka kneeled beside Sayaka, still quivering from the horror she just witnessed. "That… that belongs to Miss Mami!"

Without a word, she walked past the two.

"I said give that back!"

"And she is dead because of it." Homura did not turn to look at the pair. If she saw Madoka's trembling body again, she knew her disguise of indifference would fall apart. "You two have no business with it."

"You should know," The voice echoed inside her head, "that Tomoe Mami is not dead."

"Yes." Homura replied silently as she walked away without sparing a look, "But at this time, it is for the best that they did _not_ know."


	10. IX: I'm Not Afraid of Anything Anymore

Cold…

Everything is so cold…

Where am I…?

The last thing I remember is… a Witch chomping down on me.

Am I dead?

I can't feel anything but coldness. I can't see anything but darkness.

I must be dead, then.

Is this Heaven?

Is it not paradise, filled with flowers and sweets, but an endless cold void?

Is this Hell, then?

Is it not a flaming pit, filled with anguished screams, but an endless cold void?

What is this place, exactly?

Light.

A sliver of light.

I must move toward the light.

Maybe that's where Heaven is.

Maybe that's where… Madoka is…

* * *

><p>Far Seer Kirahla was pleased.<p>

Her operation succeeded marvelously, and even the rebellious Pathfinder Azrael was silent after his return. The stay in the daemon's barrier seemed to have left a mark on his psyche.

That would be for the best, for she could ill afford an important member of her war host go rogue on her.

And now, the golden waystone that they retrieved sat perfectly on the mount in the Wraithguard's head. In a few moments, her Bonesingers would bring the incomplete construct online, and then she would be able to ask the _mon-keigh_ soul inside some questions.

"Far Seer, all preparations are complete."

And as expected, her Bonesingers were ready.

A soft breeze ruffled Kirahla's long silver hair. She carelessly combed them with her finger, before putting on her helmet. It would be wise to not show her face to her captive. "Very well. Proceed with the activation ritual."

The ritual to awaken a Wraithguard was a complex one, even though the construct itself was no more than eight feet tall. This one was intentionally left without its arms or legs, and only essential systems were installed.

It was a prison, after all.

The eye symbol glowed faintly as the Bonesingers chanted and the wraithbone of the construct responded. It soon fused with its wraithbone support frame, and became one with it. When the chanting finally finished, the eye symbol radiated golden light, and its frame quivered slightly, as though it was alive.

"_Koko wa… doko desu ka?_" The _mon-keigh _soul spoke in a strange language. "_Watashi… mada… ikiteru no?_"

This would be more difficult than the Far Seer had imagined.

She closed her eyes and sat down in front of it. A psychic communication was necessary.

"Welcome back, Tomoe Mami, to the world of the living."

* * *

><p>Homura left the door to her residence open.<p>

She knew she was being followed on her way home. She knew that the other person—His servant—would have questions for her because he saw her Rosette. And as expected, before she had a chance to turn on the lights, the huge figure burst into the room, with a large gun in his hand.

"Welcome." She was a bit annoyed as she turned to address the burly man, towering two feet over her. Half his skull was replaced by metal plates, and there were metal around his joints that creaked as he moved. He wore a great cloak on his back, a pair of dull grey pants, and some armor plates on his torso and his legs. What caught her eyes, though, was that he wore a larger version of her Rosette on his chest. "Please, try not to stain the carpet with your feet, and remember to knock next time."

"Tell me, girl." The man spoke in a language Homura had never heard before, but somehow she was able to understand it. "Tell me, what association do you have with the Emperor's Holy Inquisition?"

"I am Akemi Homura." She answered calmly, somehow able to speak his language. "I am an ally of the Emperor."

"Why should I believe you?" Inquisitor Kane was genuinely surprised when Homura responded to his question with fluent High Gothic.

There was no reason for him to believe her claims. All he had been able to confirm at the moment was the existence of daemons on the planetary surface. The Warp Storm had raged around the planet for at least ten millennia. He knew that because this planet's populace was untouched by the Great Crusade: otherwise, they would have knowledge of the Emperor.

But now, the girl who stood in front of him claimed that she was an "ally"—not a "servant", but an "ally"—of the Emperor.

What arrogance! What foolishness! What… heresy!

"How did you come into possession of a Rosette?" He amplified his voice psychically, and the water glass on the tea table behind the girl shattered from it.

"It is unlikely that he would be convinced so easily." The voice spoke in Homura's head, "He is one of the men chosen to guard the Imperium from the Threat Beyond, after all."

"I will likely require your help in order to enlist him." Homura thought silently, as she continued to stare at the barrel of the Inquisitor's gun without fear.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Very well, then. You may count on my help." The voice said with a hint of resignation. "But be warned. My manifestation in you—or anyone, for that matter—would likely attract all kind of threats to your planet, horrors that you cannot hope to defeat even with Madoka's power. In the best case, your planet would be wiped clean of sentient life. I trust you would rather not see that outcome?"

"Indeed." A small smile crept into the corner of Homura's lips as she spoke out loud.

"Answer me!" Kane was losing his patience. With his free hand, he pulled out a small cube from his satchel. "Answer me, or you shall face your worst nightmare!"

Homura shifted her eyes at the small cube. It was shiny gunmetal gray in color, and it had the symbol of the Inquisition etched on each of its faces. Though subtle, Homura also observed some specks of blood staining its faces.

"A torturing device." She met the Inquisitor's gaze again, not betraying a sliver of fear with her voice. "If you want the truth, you can simply read my mind."

"I'm not about to fall for a cheap trick like this, heretic." Mind-reading would require Kane to lower his own mental defenses. If the girl was possessed, it would also be fatal for him.

"Help me pry open his defense." Homura implored as she closed her eyes. Her Soul Gem—now in the form of a ring on her left middle finger—released a small burst of violet light, and the Inquisitor suddenly bent over in pain.

"Follow my lead." The voice instructed, as Homura concentrated her efforts. "Find the weakest spot in his defenses. Feel his weakness. Form your power into a sharp stiletto, and stab at it with care, for if you ever make a mistake, however small, his defensive mechanisms will fry his brain."

The Inquisitor had never felt such pain before, a sharp stabbing pain like someone had thrust a power sword through his cranium. The girl—or whatever was instructing her—knew full well how to penetrate the defenses of a trained psyker, and she was doing a marvelous job of making Kane's day worse than it already was.

The pain did clear his mind a little, however. The girl possessed enough power that she could simply overwhelm his mental defenses and fry his brain, but she seemed intent on penetrating it with a surgical strike. Why would she do that? It would be much easier to render him a thrall if his brain was fried and his soul erased.

Kane was not about to beg for mercy. With all his will, he raised his pistol and fired several wild shots in Homura's direction. None of the shots hit, but Homura's concentration was temporarily disrupted by the booming reports. That gave Kane the window he needed to gather himself, tackle Homura to the ground and shoved the smoking muzzle against Homura's forehead.

The skin on her forehead sizzled, and Homura made a small yelp of pain. Kane was panting because he was, too, in pain due to Homura's psychic assault: "Die, heretic."

Before he could depress the trigger, though, Homura broke through his defenses.

"This one shall not die by your hand today, Inquisitor." A voice boomed in Kane's head, which made his grip on his pistol suddenly loosen. With another yelp, the muzzle tore away from Homura's forehead, leaving behind a bloody ring.

Kane watched with horror as he lost control of his body. What sort of daemon could breach his defenses so perfectly, that the implants in his brain did nothing to prevent?

"I am no daemon, Inquisitor, though in a manner of speaking, the ways we operate are similar."

Kane's body peeled off of Homura and she let out a sigh of relief. It was then that she noticed a ray of violet light from her ring merging with a ray of golden light from her Rosette and bearing into the Inquisitor's forehead.

"That is the mark of our power." The voice sounded distant this time, and it was then that Homura noticed a certain emptiness in her, as if a part of her soul had departed from her body and she was no longer "whole".

"Daemon! Do not think for a second that you have won!" Somehow, Kane still had control of his voice. His arms flailed about as he fought to control the rest of his body, but even the flailing soon came to a stop as he stood motionless in front of Homura.

The burning pain in Homura's forehead disappeared as soon as she waved her Soul Gem ring in front of the wound. The incompleteness greatly unnerved her, and she wanted to reach out to the Inquisitor to take a part of her back, but a wave of warmth washed over her as soon as she tried to lift a finger. The warmth was so comfortable that Homura's muscles momentarily relaxed and she drew in a long breath before returning her attention to the Inquisitor.

The Inquisitor's arms and legs were perfectly still, as if they were bound by invisible restraints. Shadows danced in his pupils as Homura stared into them, shadows of gold and steel grey whirling into a maelstrom of colors.

"We mean you no harm, Inquisitor." As Homura spoke, the voice spoke with her. Somewhere deep inside him, Kane knew that he was not—and would not be—possessed, that the girl in front of him was pure and faithful, and that the voice was an entirely different entity compared to a daemon.

"Speak, then! What do you hope to accomplish by attacking me?"

"We simply wish you to listen to our story, and believe."

"How could I believe you?"

"Have faith, my child." Their voices were in unison yet again, and Homura was as surprised as the Inquisitor. It was obviously His words, and yet Homura was speaking with him. Was there some sort of resonance between Him and her, or was it a simple coincidence?

What Homura did not know was that as she spoke those words, her eyes gave out a flash of golden brilliance. The Inquisitor's eyes widened as the flash hit, and he was overwhelmed by a vision, so powerful that when it finished, he could only gasp for breath as his entire body collapsed on the ground.

Homura's legs almost gave in when the Inquisitor collapsed. The ray of light from the Rosette was gone, and she felt complete; she knew that He had returned into her Rosette, and He was once again with her.

"What did you have him see?" Homura asked out aloud as she observed the Inquisitor. His breathing was fast and shallow, his face pale and dotted with beads of sweat. His eyes, especially, were unfocused, staring at somewhere beyond the ceiling. He clenched his abdomen with both his hands, as if he was mortally wounded.

"Something that would convince him." The voice said simply.

Homura could only wonder what it was. He had told her countless stories: of His twenty sons, of how only eighteen of them remained as He reunited with them, of how half of those betrayed Him and tried to destroy the very Imperium He tried to create, of how He was confined on a twisted life-supporting machine to ensure humanity's continued existence, and of how He found her amidst a sea of hatred, terror and destruction.

If the vision was powerful enough to render even a hardened Ordo Malleus Inquisitor hallucinating on the floor, it must have been a particularly painful memory to Him, Homura thought.

While Homura mused, though, Kane was in a state of shock. The scene he had seen was so visceral that it was as if he was there, with his most loyal son's broken body at his feet, and staring at His most beloved son feeling nothing but sorrow and fury. Even though Kane knew that the wounds were not there, he could not help but reel in the agony inflicted upon Him, knowing full well what He must do.

Kane could not find words to describe how he felt at the moment, clenching onto wounds inflicted in a time long past by a foe long dead. It was several moments before he could gather himself, and bring his body to a kneeling position, quivering uncontrollably as it was.

He was in the presence of a God, and His mortal vessel.

"Only now do you believe us." Homura said in unison with Him, and she could not help but feel a hint of disappointment in His voice. "We thought your faith strong."

"Forgive me… forgive me, my Lord Emperor, for my impudence." Kane barely found the courage to speak audibly in His presence. In ten thousand years, He had not spoken a single word, leaving mortals to interpret his actions through prayers and divinations. And right then, He graced him—an Inquisitor, almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things—with His divine presence.

"It was prudent of you to err on the side of caution, though we did not expect that you would damage our home." Homura turned to stare at the wall that stopped the bolter bullets. A handful of bowl-sized craters dotted the wall, blasting away bricks and mortar like they were wet tissue paper.

Such power, if wielded properly in her hands, would up her chances of defeating Walpurgisnacht immensely, Homura thought.

"But that is something we can fix." Homura said again, as she helped the Inquisitor stand up. The look of hostility in his eyes was gone; in its place were simple awe, admiration, and fear.

Kane's entire body still shook from excitement: "What would you ask of me?"

"First, you can relax. I'm not your subject of worship; He is." Homura picked up the bolt pistol lying on the ground with a small grunt. The pistol was almost too large for her, but she liked the size.

"But you are His mortal vessel!" If it were not for that blasted Warp Storm around this planet, the Inquisitor would have called every chapter of Space Marines and every fleet the Imperial Navy could muster and secure her.

She was humanity's only hope!

"I am simply His messenger." Homura smiled as she released the bolt pistol's magazine. The large box contained short stubby bullets of a foreign make, with brass casings and bright gray tips. "We will have to work for Him in secret. The lives on this planet are precious to Him, as they are to me."

"I understand."

"You must have many questions." Homura maintained her smile and flicked on the living room light. The Inquisitor was amazed at the vastness—the emptiness—of it. All of its walls—including both the carpet and the ceiling—were pure white, with large vid screens covering much of the wall to his left. In the middle, there were benches, strangely shaped and colored, surrounding a glass tea table, on which shattered fragments of the water glass rest.

"Would you like to have a cup of tea while we discuss our situation?"

* * *

><p>"Welcome back, Tomoe Mami, to the world of the living."<p>

The voice—a deep female voice, and a strangely soothing one at that—echoed inside Mami as she tried to feel her hands and feet. There was nothing. Her limbs were gone. Her head, too, it appeared, as she could not even move her field of view.

She was horrified. If her head were gone, then she should not be alive! Why, then, did the voice welcome her back to "the world of the living"?

"Who are you? What's going on? Why can you speak in my head?"

Far Seer Kirahla subconsciously grinned as she sensed the panic and fear within the _mon-keigh_ spirit. Her interrogation subject was in a fragile psychological state; she needed only nudge her subject over the edge.

"We are Eldar. We saved you from certain annihilation, since you possess knowledge we seek. In particular, we seek to understand and perhaps replicate your Waystone."

Eldar?

Mami's fear deepened as she heard the word. They were not other Magical Girls seeking to neutralize her. She had no knowledge of the term. They knew more about her than she knew about them, and that made her shiver slightly.

"Who are you exactly? Where am I?"

"We are not your kind. You are confined inside our camp, as your mortal body has been destroyed in combat against a daemon."

Mami froze.

"You're lying! If my body's gone, then how am I—!"

Mami slowly glanced around as she regained control of her vision. Somehow, her field of view was tinted yellow. Moreover, she sat in front of a handful of humanoid creatures, all of which had slender figures, wearing sleek bone-colored armor and helmets with strange symbol etched into them.

Only one of those creatures was sitting, and Mami somehow knew that that one was the one conversing with her in her mind. She was wearing a set of robes over her armor, and her face was obscured by a blue and yellow helmet like the rest of the creatures.

"Glance down at your body, Tomoe Mami, and embrace the truth."

Kirahla saw the Wraithguard's head tilting down, showering the wraithbone frame with golden light from its eyepiece. And then, the soul inside the Wraithguard let out a psychic wail so powerful that even she had to terminate her connection with it and brace herself.

The wail washed over Kirahla like a tidal wave. Even though human emotions were much less intense than Eldars, Kirahla still reeled a little from the grief and the anguish in the wail. Glancing around her, she saw much of her retinue with their bodies bent and their hands over their ears. It came as no surprise; such a powerful psychic blast could have left some of them in a coma.

When Kirahla redirected her attention at the Wraithguard, she found that it had powered off itself. The psychic fail-safe built into it must have considered the blast as an attempt by some daemon to take control of the device.

She sighed. Reactivation of the construct would take a couple of days, at best, and there was no doubt that the _mon-keigh_ Inquisitor had noticed it by now.

As he would take action, so should she, Kirahla thought.

* * *

><p>Sergeant Dividus grunted as he set down a rather large case on the ground. The evening breeze brushed against his exposed head, and he made a growl of frustration.<p>

As per the Inquisitor's orders, his squad had been pulled off of surveillance duty. Even though the Eldar had made no moves in the past few days, the Inquisitor insisted that the mission was a futile one as he had evidently encountered Eldar interference despite their surveillance.

Dividus did not voice his complaints, even though the lack of action infuriated him. The Inquisitor was an abominable psyker, and it was only due to his affiliation with the Ordo Malleus did he have authority over them.

And now, he had relegated them to courier duty!

"Brother Sergeant, why must we leave the sacred equipment of the Imperium on this planet of abominations?" Sullivus mumbled into his vox channel as he, too, set down a large crate of weapons. "We should be purging the planet of the blasted mutant infestation, not giving them these weapons!"

Indeed, Dividus nodded; if it were their equipment, he would have thought the Inquisitor insane, or worse.

"Sire, forgive me if I ask an imprudent question." It was Torvus, carrying a stack of bolt pistol magazines.

"Speak." Dividus rumbled. The squire was eager to learn the ways of a Space Marine. Although physically Torvus was neither the strongest melee fighter nor the sharpest shooter, he had an excellent sense of tactics, and in a duel he would often gain advantages through exploiting the smallest of opportunities.

"The Inquisitor had grown more and more irritable of late." The squire continued. "He had first assigned us on a surveillance mission best left for the Guards, and now he asks us to leave equipment around for a purpose of which he could not speak. Is this normally what an Inquisitor would do under the circumstances?"

Dividus sank himself in thought as all of his squad gathered around him. They had left nine crates of weapons and ammunition behind a rather moderate house under the cover of the night, and all that was left for them was to return to their camp and wait for further instructions.

"Indeed, the Inquisitor's behavior was out of the norm." Iohannes commented as they silently moved away from the house and into the forest. "Torvus' observation was not incorrect, but I hesitate to label the Inquisitor a heretic."

"We should, after all, expect him to turn traitor tomorrow." Sullivus added. "Brother Sergeant, do you think that the Warp Storm had stirred some sort of change in him?"

"I cannot say for certain at the moment, but it certainly is not impossible." Dividus finally answered as he came to a stop. His squad maintained guard formation around him with excellent discipline, and observed their surroundings. "We should observe him some more, before we accuse him of heresy. He is a decorated Inquisitor, after all."

With a slight pause, he clenched his fist and added: "If he were traitorous, I shall be the first to put a bolter round through that abominable skull of his."

* * *

><p>Homura quietly observed the Space Marines as they left the crates in her back yard.<p>

"These are my crusaders." The voice spoke with a hint of pride. "They are my proudest creations. It was with them that I created the Imperium, first uniting the warring tribes on Terra, and then branching out to the stars. But I have told you my tale a few times."

"Yes, you have." Homura gave him a weak smile as she grunted. The crate in front of her glowed faint purple and lifted itself off the ground. With a series of small gestures from her hand, the crate nimbly fit through the open window, maneuvered through the door, and landed with a small thud inside her living room. With some effort, she transported all nine of them inside.

Homura then made her way to the crates, now resting under the milky white light in her living room. They were as long as Homura was tall and thoroughly painted olive green, with a two-headed Imperial Aquila painted on each side and the lid. The crates were made of metal, with plenty of scrapes and marks marring each one.

She tilted the lid of a crate to allow it to slide down onto the floor. In front of her, gleaming in the milky white light of the living room was two stacks of long green rifles, surrounded by box magazines. "So these are the weapons of the Imperium, your tools against the enemies of Man."

"The Inquisitor requisitioned the equipment from the Imperial Guard, as I expected." He commented as Homura picked up one of the guns. It was as long as some of the sniper rifles she had in stock, but it was considerably lighter, with stamped metal frame and a thin barrel.

"It feels somewhat flimsy." Homura made the comment as she shouldered the rifle. The sights were acceptable, and the trigger was easy to reach. The weapon overall used better material than the sniper rifles she had, as it was much lighter, but she did not know how destructive it may be compared to them.

"It was necessity." He said as Homura placed the weapon into her shield. "The Imperial Guard numbers in the billions. To arm and supply each Guardsman, however brief his battlefield life expectancy may be, we have to produce cheap and maintainable weapons en masse, like the Soviets did in the 20th century."

Homura opened another crate. Lying in it were large hand guns surrounded by similarly oversized sickle magazines. "And these are the pistols you used to arm your men."

"Indeed. These fire 75-caliber gyrojet shells to reduce recoil. You will still feel some kick as the powder charge at the bottom of the shell expels it out the barrel, but the powder charge removes the need of arranging rocket engines on the shell into angles to produce spin." There was a hint of pride in his voice as he explained. "It was my invention. I chose the weapon to arm my sons. This is merely a scaled-down version of the larger weapon."

Homura picked up a bolter shell. It was stubby, and Homura noticed that the bottom part had a percussion cap attached to it: "This is a large bullet. The recoil is likely to still be significant."

"Unfortunately, yes. I do not recommend you firing it without preparing yourself." The voice said, "This weapon and its ammunition were designed for use with power armor."

"So with power armor, I will be able to use much larger weapons?" Homura mused as she stuffed the pistols and magazines into her shield, and lifted the lid off of another crate with a gesture, "Such as this one?"

The crate contained a large weapon disassembled into about a dozen parts. The barrel of the weapon was as long as a broom stick, and as thick as a man's arm. The other parts were unpainted, and they were obviously used, as Homura observed scratches and scars on the surface of some parts.

"Indeed. This is a 40 millimeter autocannon, usually for a team of men." The voice commented as Homura laid her hands on the barrel. The metal was cold to the touch, yet strangely warming to her. Immediately she picked the parts up, and with a skill only seen in veterans put the enormous weapon together in under two minutes.

"It suits me." She commented as she examined the complete weapon. It was as long as Homura was tall, and the body's width was as long as Homura's arm. "The power of such a weapon, and the weight and recoil that comes with it; don't you think so?"

"You will need more than power armor to use an autocannon, my child." Homura pulled a large box of autocannon rounds out of the crate, and slid it onto the right side of the weapon. With a tug, she pulled out the chain of rounds from the box magazine, and carefully adjusted the weapon's feed tray so that the rounds would go smoothly into the weapon.

"I wonder about that…" She laid her left hand on the top grip of the weapon, and wrapped the autocannon with a violet aura. With a grunt, she lifted the enormous weapon to her hip, and firmly gripped the vertical grip at the end of the weapon with her right hand. "I'm stretching my arm to hold the grips."

"And you are diverting your power to lift the weight." Homura pulled the charge handle of the weapon with her left hand. The weapon gave a quiet metal sound, and Homura smiled, knowing that it was well maintained. "You will also need to divert your power to compensate for the large recoil."

"I will need to test it." Homura gently placed the large weapon into its crate. She knew that in the city there was no place for her to test such a loud and destructive device. "If I want to replace my machine gun with this cannon, I will have to know it as well as my body."

"Kane may know a place. If not, he will find a place for you."

"What else is there for me?" She simultaneously lifted the lids off of the rest of the crates. There was a lascannon and a stack of plasma guns, and four crates of ammunition and power packs for the weapons. "I might need his help to assemble some of the weapons."

"Kane did think of everything." Homura heard his smile, and she smiled with him.

"This time around, Walpurgisnacht would feel my wrath."

With a slight pause, she corrected herself.

"Our wrath."

* * *

><p>The Fabricator-General of Mars made a mental sigh as he approached the Imperial Palace.<p>

In his oculus was the same image of sulfur-colored sky, and from his olfactory sensor he detected the same atmospheric composition from an exact Terran year ago, when he visited Terra on the same errand.

He sighed. The fetid planet, holy to all humanity, had been rotting ever since the internment of the Omnissiah, along with His Imperium. Though he was the faithful servant of the Machine God, and the rise—and fall—of the Imperium was of little importance to him, he still felt a small hint of emotion upon receiving the array of sensory data from Terra.

The small adamantine gate opened in front of him. This was no main entrance to the Palace—that was blocked off by billions of pilgrims making their way to get even a glimpse of the Emperor's resting place—but a side passage, one that used to ferry materiel and resources into the massive underground labyrinth, and one that was little known even to the Custodes.

"Fabricator-General." A tall lithe humanoid figure stood with a pair of Adeptus Custodes guards to welcome him. He was robed in red with a black trim and exquisite golden embroidering, and his robe was decorated with many small objects of gold and silver. Many strips of parchment, some as long as an adult human arm, were attached to his robe with wax seals.

He raised his head and looked directly into the Fabricator-General's oculus, and the Fabricator-General immediately recognized him as the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes: the completely silver hair, the creases on his face and hundreds of scars—big and small—rendered it all but unique in the Imperium.

"Captain-General." With the whirring of a servo, the Fabricator-General acknowledged his presence. It was customary for the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes to welcome him each time the Fabricator-General came to this particular entrance.

The adamantine gate closed behind them with a screech and a loud clang, and there was no other sound except the Custodes' footsteps and the skittering of the Fabricator-General's own legs on adamantine floor. The hallway was dimly lit with perpetually burning torches, and in this low light, the Fabricator-General could make out the torch holders, each made of adamantium and unique in its sculpting.

It was hard to imagine that such an impressive underground structure would be surrounded by billions upon billions of starving and decrepit subjects eking out an existence around the very God they worship, the Fabricator-General thought. He then chuckled with a dry mechanical laugh when he noticed, in his log entries, that he had made the exact same thought every time he came through this passage.

"What is the matter?" The Captain-General asked with a small smile on his face. The Fabricator-General liked his smile: always friendly, never intimidating. It was hard to imagine that the person that greeted him could stand his ground against several Space Marine Chapter Masters.

"Random musings of an old man." The lack of emotions in his synthesized voice did not bother the Captain-General in the least. He had known the Fabricator-General for ninety years counting this year, since he had taken the honorable title of Captain-General, and the Fabricator-General had always offered interesting insights to him every time they met. Even though at the moment his body was nothing but a metal block with eight arachnid legs and a lime green dome top, the Fabricator-General was still very much wise.

"So, tell me," The Fabricator-General talked with a whir of a servo as they continued to proceed in the long and winding tunnel, "How is the Omnissiah?"

"There hasn't been much change from ninety years ago, let alone last year." The Captain-General's answer drew another flat chuckle from his friend.

"What have your men observed?"

"There is a small increase in the rate of fuel consumption for the Astronomican, as reported by the Adeptus Astra Telepathica; otherwise, nothing had changed."

"Then it is as I feared." The Fabricator-General was the only person who had access to the maintenance procedures and technical specifications of the Golden Throne. Nearly a millennium of visits, and he could reproduce the exact drawings and specifications without relying on his link to the main Mechanicus altar. "The Throne's condition continues to deterioriate."

"How long do you think it will hold?"

"It is difficult to say. I will need to make some further prayers to the Machine God and the Machine Spirit of the Throne."

They came in front of another small adamantine gate, barely big enough to fit a single Astartes warrior. In the twilight, the Fabricator-General made out the image on the gate—it was the Tree of Life, from an ancient Terran philosopher long forgotten in the history of time. It was rumored that the Omnissiah Himself chose the image for this gate, one of eight in total that leads to His chamber, the smallest of all, and the closest to the Golden Throne.

The Captain-General walked up to the small cogitator panel on the side, and pressed his palm against it. Through his wireless antenna, the Fabricator-General attempted to communicate with the Machine Spirit of the cogitator, but was simply refused; its Spirit spoke a much more ancient dialect of the Lingua Technica, and could not understand him.

"Shibboleth." The Captain-General spoke, in compliance with the demands of the Machine Spirit. The enormous gate creaked and slid open, and light pierced the twilight in the tunnel.

The Sanctum Imperialis was truly massive. The cavernous circular room needed no illumination, for the walls lit themselves by reflecting the light the Throne emitted. Ornate reliefs adorned each square inch of the walls, depicting different scenes of the Emperor in His Great Crusade. On each of the twenty pillars around the room, a banner of a Space Marine Legion hung on a metal pole. Eleven of those were then replaced by the Imperial banner, but the banners of the nine Loyalist Legions remained. The Emperor's Companions lined the chamber's edge, standing immobile, as if in silent prayer.

The Golden Throne sat right in front of them, the mechanical wonder that made even Warhound Titans look and feel insignificant in front of it. Psykers were brought in through a side passage, and bound to Him in front of the enormous machine, branding them with His Mark forever and becoming an Astropath of the Imperium. The machine itself was covered with pipes, wires, and conduits; the slow but steady hum was accompanied by the occasional screaming of psykers becoming Astropaths.

The Fabricator-General and the Captain-General approached the Golden Throne from the rear. With a few words from his wireless antenna, the Fabricator-General requested a console on the Golden Throne; one with a large tube screen and a keyboard was provided to him.

"The spoken dialect of Lingua Technica for the Throne's Machine Spirit was long forgotten, and only I know its verbal form." The Fabricator-General muttered as two small metal manipulators extended from his boxy body with a whir of his servos. The keyboard clattered with crisp sounds, and several beeps and chimes came from the console as a verbal response for the Captain-General.

"So, how is the Golden Throne?"

The Fabricator-General only sighed as the console folded back into the Golden Throne after a long period of silence. There was no word exchanged between them for what seemed like an eternity, and the Captain-General realized the gravity of the situation. His eyes widened a little, and then his shoulders sagged.

"How long?"

"Several years, at best."

"At worst?"

"A month."

"I understand. I shall notify the other High Lords."

With a curt nod, the Captain-General walked out of the Sanctum with the Fabricator-General.

There would be much to do in light of this diagnostic.

Both the Imperium—and humanity—were running out of time.


	11. X

X: There Are Such Things as Miracle and Magic, Part I

Author's Notes:

How do y'all like them smell of roasted Tyranids in the morning?

* * *

><p>The disgusting scent of disinfectants again filled Sayaka's nose as her footsteps clattered on the corridor's absurdly clean floor. Light of the setting sun shone lazily through the windows, and the wind ruffled her hair. But at the moment, she had no mood to slow down and enjoy the scenery. Not that she had ever enjoyed the hospital at all, even though she visited regularly.<p>

She wanted to see him; that was the only thought in Sayaka's mind as she sprinted briskly along the hallway to his room.

She had so much to talk about; she had so much to say to him. After what happened the day before, she _needed_ him. She needed to hear his voice. She needed to feel his touch. She needed to smell his odor.

She needed to feel alive.

Sayaka slid to a screeching halt in front of his room. She could not bring herself to walk into his room before steadying her breath and wiping the sweat off of her forehead. It would be unbecoming of a lady, and—most importantly—he would not want to see her sweating and panting.

She brushed her azure hair a little, before dropping her school bag and putting both her hands on her chest. As if no longer following her orders, her heart beat even faster, and her panting became more and more audible.

"Calm down, damn it! Calm the hell down, Sayaka!" She cursed to no avail. It was always like this when she stood in front of this wooden slide door. She never could calm down here, however much she tried.

On the other side of the door, Kyousuke must be waiting for her; she thought with conviction, and that seemed to have calmed her down somewhat. Taking several deep breaths, she patted herself on the cheeks with both her hands, and hopped around in place a little. She was ready.

A pair of light knocks. It was the secret signal for him to expect her.

Did he want to see her as badly as she wanted to see him?

The smooth sliding of the door stopped her thought.

"Kyo—"

Before she could call out, though, she was greeted by the silence of an empty bed. The window was carelessly left open, and the late spring breeze gently lifted the curtains, as if waving at her.

He was not there.

Sayaka's shoulder sagged and she let out a long sigh. How foolish she was, thinking that he would always be there when she wanted to see him! This was not the first time that this had happened, either; Sayaka noted with some disappointment.

The handle of the door felt unusually cold as Sayaka yanked the sliding door shut. There was no point for her to linger here any longer; the person she came for was not here. The only person in the world that could make her feel alive was missing, and she had no idea where he was.

"Are you here to see Mr. Kamijou?"

A soft and warm voice came from behind and startled Sayaka. It was a nurse, walking down the hallway with her colleague, and Sayaka recognized that she was one of the nurses that took care of Kyousuke. Sayaka's eyelids drooped down a bit to conceal her disappointment as she responded: "Um, uh, yes."

"I'm sorry, but the date of his examination was moved up, so he's in the rehabilitation area right now." Sadness welled up inside Sayaka as the nurse spoke. Why was she not aware of this fact? There must have been some sort of advanced notice for such a change. Why did he not tell her?

Maybe the notice came in today, Sayaka answered her own questions; maybe he did not have time to tell her about it. Or maybe he did not want her to see him failing at rehabilitation. Maybe he did not want to seem weak in front of her, afraid that if she did she would no longer like him.

"I… I see. Thank you." Regardless, she had no reason to stay here any longer. With a sigh she made a lazy turn, and dragged her feet across the cold tiled floor of the corridor, her school bag dangling carelessly from her hand.

"She sure visits a lot, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, but I'm glad she does. That patient was quite a handful; I hope she's cheering him up."

"He was a violin prodigy before the accident, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but even if he could make a recovery, with fingers like that he's not going to be able to play any instrument ever again."

Even as she stepped into the elevator, the words the nurses spoke between them as she left still rattled Sayaka's heart. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to suffer like this? Why did fate give him the one thing he cherished in his life, and then take it away in the cruelest way possible?

"It doesn't matter how much I move my fingers; they don't do any good to anyone." Sayaka lamented, her fingers trembling slightly in front of her face. When Kyousuke got run over by that car, Sayaka could do nothing but watch him suffer. When Mami was eaten by a Witch, Sayaka could do nothing but watch her die.

"I'll grant each of you a wish. It can be whatever you want. No matter the miracle, I can make it happen." Kyubey promised her as such. If Sayaka became a Magical Girl, she would be able to make Kyousuke play the violin again. His suffering would come to an end; he would never need to stay in this cursed hospital again, this blasted place that took Miss Mami's life.

What would Kyousuke think? Sayaka took in a deep breath. What would he think, if she used her wish to heal him? Would he be thankful enough that he would do anything to repay her? Would he just say "thank you" and part ways with her?

Putting that aside, what did she truly want?

"Do you want his wish to come true, or do you want him to be thankful that you are the one who made it possible?" Mami's words brought a chill to Sayaka's bones. Her mind told her that she should be selfless in her sacrifice. Kyousuke's happiness was her happiness, after all, and seeing Kyousuke laugh and cheer like before was more than reward enough for her.

But in her heart, she still desired some more. She wanted to be close to him. She wanted him to belong to her. She wanted his love and his attention. No, she did not just want him to be happy; that was not enough for her. She wanted—she needed—both of them to be happy, together.

"I am such…I'm such a horrible person."

Sayaka sighed again as the elevator opened its doors.

* * *

><p>"What is the matter, girl?"<p>

"I… I'm dead… I should've been dead…"

"You're not dead yet, are you?"

"But… but my body is gone…"

"Well, you're talking to me right now, aren't you, girl?"

"Who are you? Am I in Hell?"

"Hell? Oh, no, silly girl! You're not in Hell, nor are you dead!"

"I'm not dead…?"

"No, you're not, but you will be, if you don't get out of here."

"So those Eldar, they're real?"

"Yeah, they are. But they aren't going to let you live after they get the secret of your Soul Gem out of you."

"Maybe I'm better off dead. I don't want to be stuck in this darkness forever! I don't want to be alone… forever…"

"Give your power to me, and I'll make it happen."

"… Really?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll make it happen! Grandpa wants to see you, too! He'll be thrilled if you can meet him in person!"

"Grandpa?"

"Yes, Grandpa! You can bring your friend Madoka along, too! He's really nice and he'll give you lots of love! You'll never be alone again!"

"I'll… never be alone… again?"

"Just let go of your power and give it to me, and I'll help you get out of this mess. Deal?"

* * *

><p>Pathfinder Azrael watched as the wraithbone on the Wraithguard's head slowly unraveled under the Bonesingers' chants. It was as if the wraithbone was reluctant to reveal the golden Waystone, as it twitched and spasmed against the musical chants.<p>

He failed to understand why the Far Seer committed so many resources for this _mon-keigh _Waystone. Sure, having a safer source of Waystones would eliminate the need for them to travel to Crone Worlds to obtain them; but to abandon the pride of being an Eldar and ask the _mon-keigh_ as if it would know anything? Unacceptable!

He turned his eyes on the Far Seer, who was sitting in front of the Wraithguard construct and meditating, with her trio of bodyguards standing beside her. What the Far Seer had seen in her visions was only for her to know. If she had told him what she saw, he would have understood why she had issued these orders.

But no, she had to keep them secret; Azrael thought with a sigh of frustration. The Eldar from his Craftworld of Alaitoc were always taught to adhere strictly to the aspects of Eldar life and obey the orders of the Seers. Azrael became a Ranger and lost himself upon the Path of the Outcast precisely because he could never listen to orders well, and Far Seer Kirahla seemed not to get that, to his great annoyance.

If she had understood him a little more, if she had had more pride in her race, he would not have to butt heads with her, Azrael complained quietly. The Bonesingers' song was reaching the climax, and the wraithbone glowed slightly under the psychic influence of the song: the ritual to disable the internal defense mechanism of the Wraithguard was nearly complete.

Far Seer Kirahla opened her eyes, and even Azrael could feel the amount of psychic might she had mustered as it slowly crushed his mind like an ever tightening vice. Why she had to gather so much power was beyond him, but he did know that disabling the internal defense of a Wraithguard was unprecedented. If a daemon were to possess it…

Azrael shuddered at the possibilities. Wraithbone was solidified Warp energy, and the operator of the Wraithguard could alter the wraithbone with their will; it was how they operated the construct, powered its weapons and moved its limbs. If sufficient psychic energy was provided, wraithbone could react in unpredictable ways.

As the ritual intensified, Azrael's body tensed. His hands, which never left the grips on his rifle, tightened. He could not help but feel that something bad was happening, as if there was something that could destroy all of his kin around him in a second.

"Be on your toes." Azrael scoffed, but his brows tightened into a knot. Maybe the Far Seer had foreseen the outcome of the ritual, but something more awful would happen if she did not order it? Again, Azrael was befuddled at the Far Seer's decisions, but he was in no place to question them.

Just as the ritual reached its climax, a sharp noise stabbed at Azrael's ears so painfully that he instinctively bent down and ducked. It was then that the creature inside the Wraithguard struck. Tendrils of wraithbone suddenly shot out in all directions and impaled each Bonesinger through their breastplate with lightning speed. Before the rest of the Eldar could react, each breastplate exploded yet again, with several tentacles pinning each Eldar in the extremities of their limbs.

A sickening stench permeated the air around the Wraithguard as Azrael rolled around and danced, predicting the movements of the terrifyingly fast and agile wraithbone tendrils the best he could. The tendrils formed little bulges like writhing tumors, some travelling outwards to their victims, some travelling inwards to the construct. The Wraithguard itself, though, mutated and writhed as it absorbed more material. It was attempting to construct usable arms and legs, and stubs of limbs could be seen from a deformed, comically small torso.

In the corner of his eyes, Azrael could see the fate of his brothers and sisters, who were unfortunate enough to fall prey to the maddened construct. All of them radiated the same sickly stench as the wraithbone, their faces colored moss green or dirt yellow. Their limbs were bloated with pus and blisters, some bursting and releasing liquid that stank of the dead.

Even though it was still rebuilding itself, the construct did not relent on its attacks against Azrael. Quickly he found himself running out of steam: a tendril almost touched his armor as he twisted his body to get out of the way. Any contact with these tentacles would be fatal, Azrael panicked. If the tentacle touched his armor, the wraithbone in his armor would shred his insides in an instant; if the tentacle scraped his arm or leg, the pestilence carried on the jaundiced wraithbone would kill him slowly over the next couple of hours.

He spared a glance at Far Seer Kirahla, and saw her under siege by several dozen tendrils. They stabbed and bashed against the barrier around her, making bright blue ripples across the dome-shaped shield. The Far Seer herself stood under the protective shield, straining to resist the relentless attacks.

It served her right, Azrael thought, but at the moment he could not possibly let her die. Even if they did not lose more people—which they just did, when the tendrils impaled a Warp Spider just as he materialized out of a hop right in front of Azrael—they had already lost most of their War Host: the Bonesingers, the Guardians, the Banshees, and Kirahla's Warlock bodyguards.

Even if they did not lose anyone, the shield around Kirahla would at least offer him some respite. And he needed it, too; another tendril just went narrowly between his legs as he tried to close them when attempting to enter a somersault. Azrael knew clearly in his mind that he could not sustain such acrobatics any more even though it had been barely moments after the explosive attacks from the possessed Wraithguard.

With a few grunts and a few more hops, he entered the Far Seer's shield sphere with a dozen tendrils in hot pursuit. They aimed at Azrael's face, and deflected off of the shield sphere less than an inch in front of his nose. Azrael's back crashed into Kirahla's, and he felt the Far Seer's shield sphere strengthen a little bit. He scoffed; he wished her dead from the bottom of his heart—an Eldar would be nothing without her pride—but for the sake of their survival, he must save her.

With a swift motion, he chambered a round in his rifle, and addressed the Far Seer: "You owe me an explanation for this, Far Seer."

"I do?" Kirahla's dry chuckle ticked Azrael off to no end, but he suppressed his emotions and let out a shot that deflected two tentacles as they approached the shield sphere. At the same moment, the Warp Spider Exarch materialized beside both of them, his weapon in hand and firing non-stop at the tentacles.

"You do." Azrael turned his eyes to the Wraithguard, and the symbol of Nurgle in place of its eyes on its head. "But we shall have to rid ourselves of this nuisance first."

Hitomi walked briskly about a dozen paces ahead of Sayaka and Madoka. Normally, they would walk side by side on their way to school, but somehow Hitomi did not feel like walking with them today.

She let out an exhausted sigh as she rubbed her face with her palms. The Inquisitor was right; daemons were _not_ meant for mortal eyes. She could not fall asleep or even close her eyes for more than a minute after that day. The scene of the daemon biting off Mami's head always replayed itself as soon as she closed her eyes, complete with bits of her flesh flying out and streams of crimson gushing out from the stump that used to be her head.

She always felt like throwing up every time she saw that scene, even though she had not eaten a single morsel since that night. The Inquisitor disappeared as soon as the barrier dissipated, and he never showed up in front of her again. After she recovered from shock, she tried searching around and inside the hospital, but Sayaka and Madoka were nowhere to be found.

"And, like, I kept telling Yuuka and she still didn't get it!" A wave of disgust washed over Hitomi as she listened to Sayaka's banter. Sayaka, too, witnessed Mami's murder like she did, but she could not even hear a hint of sadness in Sayaka's voice. "She was almost crying, like, 'Huh? What? Did I say something weird again?'"

The apathy Sayaka displayed enraged Hitomi. It was not the time for her to gossip about her classmates, Hitomi thought. All of them—Sayaka, Madoka, and her—bore witness to Mami's tragic death, and even though she barely knew Mami, she mourned for her. Sayaka had obviously known Mami a lot better than Hitomi did, and for her to display such callous disregard, it was too cruel.

Hitomi spun around as she stopped in the middle of the road and glared at Sayaka. What she saw, though, pushed her over the edge.

Sayaka was grinning. _Sayaka was_ _grinning_.

"Stop it." Hitomi muttered with her eyes closed and her fists tightened, and both Madoka and Sayaka stopped in their tracks.

"What?"

"I said stop it!" Hitomi screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice so sharp that Sayaka shielded her ears. "Stop pretending that nothing had happened!"

Both Madoka and Sayaka were frozen in place, seemingly stunned by Hitomi's words. The morning sun showered them mercilessly with so much light that Madoka's skin began to hurt. Hitomi was there when Mami got killed, Madoka remembered. Hitomi bore witness to Mami's sacrifice, like both she and Sayaka did.

"She was dead! That blonde girl from the upper year was dead!" Hitomi continued her wail, completely disregarding the throbbing pain in her throat. "How can you still talk like there's nothing wrong with this world? How can you still laugh like everything's fine?"

Hitomi sniffled. She had let her emotions take control of her actions; tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving a gleaming trail of liquid in the morning sun. It was then that she noticed Madoka, too, had black rings around her eyes.

She probably did not sleep well after that, either, Hitomi thought.

"What do you want us to do?" Sayaka fired back, adding fuel to Hitomi's fiery rage. "Mami's dead! Dead! Mourning her won't make her come back to us, now, would it?"

"At least show her a little respect and stop laughing like nothing's ever happened!"

"Do you even know what I have to go through to not think about how she was killed?"

"No, because you two never tell me anything!"

Sayaka's mouth froze again when she tried to come up with a response. Madoka, too, was stunned, and there was silence between the three friends as Hitomi panted.

"You never told me you were involved with something that dangerous! You never told me that you were going to fight daemons, of all things!" Hitomi continued her hysterical tirade, her face flush with anger. A breeze was insensitive enough to ruffle her hair, but she paid no mind. "As your friend, I have a right to know! But you two never tell me anything at all!"

Madoka's mouth opened and closed. Hitomi's rage at them was completely justified, and she could barely find a word to respond to her: "… since… since when did you…"

"Ever since the day you refused to come with me after school!" That day, Hitomi tailed them to that abandoned building. That day, Hitomi saw Mami for the first time. That day, what Hitomi had seen was beyond her wildest dreams. "Ever since that day… ever since that day, I've known! And you two still lied to me like there's nothing going on!"

"… You've been stalking us for that long?" Sayaka, too, was shocked at the revelation. It was the day that they saw Mami fight a Witch for the first time. It was the day that they decided that they would become Magical Girls to protect everyone.

"Yes!" The word was mangled and twisted as Hitomi's voice broke from all the screaming. She coughed uncontrollably for a few seconds, enough so that her face was unhealthily red. "Was I… was I that untrustworthy? Was I that unimportant to both of you that you simply _neglected_ to mention this to me? Did I do _anything_ to deserve this treatment?"

"It was for your own good—"

"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!" Hitomi's roar startled Madoka so much that her grip on her schoolbag loosened. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You're not my mother! You don't get to decide what's good for me and what's not!"

Madoka had never seen Hitomi so angry before, nor had she ever heard Hitomi swear. The mild-mannered lady that she used to know was gone; right then, in front of them, she was a rampaging banshee, wailing at them with all her might.

Only Hitomi's rapid and shallow breathing could be heard as her glare met Madoka's eyes, even when Madoka tried hard to avert it. Madoka would never forget that pair of eyes, murderous as they were, yet filled with so much pain, sadness, and anger that they spilled into Madoka's eyes and made her wince.

"I… I'm sorry." Hitomi took a few deep breaths, enough to stop her from hyperventilating. A couple of seconds later, she steadied her trembling hand and picked up the schoolbag that went flying out of her hand when she screamed at Sayaka. "I… should go. See you both at school."

Without any more words or even a spare glance, Hitomi turned around and sprinted away, leaving the duo behind.

She hated them for sure, Madoka thought as her legs gave in and she knelt on the ground. They had just lost Mami on the day before, and now they would lose Hitomi as a friend, too. The mere thought of it brought more tears to Madoka's eyes.

"I'm sorry…" Madoka covered her face with her hands and sobbed. "I'm sorry, Hitomi-chan… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

She felt Sayaka's arms around her, and they were still for a long, long time.

* * *

><p>Asakura Soichirou waited inside the VIP room of the newly renovated airport for his private plane. He was a lithe man in his late forties, with a head full of dark red hair. His facial features seemed like they were chiseled into his beardless face, but they seemed strangely attractive in combination with his mesmerizing ruby eyes. His suit—a milky-white set hand-made by the best suit-makers on the planet—fitted him nicely, accentuating the height and shape of his body.<p>

He glanced around at the lavish decorations—reliefs of gold and other vibrant colors, soft and comfortable leather chairs, granite-tiled floors, and fresco-covered ceilings—and smiled a satisfied smile. Part of it was his work; his church, the Church of Latter-Day Saints, had gained a significant mass of followers, many of whom fanatically devoted to him.

He was offered a cut cigar by his servant who stood beside him. With a flick of his wrist, he lit it with his golden lighter, and took a long and satisfying draw. Being the head of a prominent religion meant that he could live like a noble, with nearly an unlimited amount of money for his own personal disposal.

But, as the Founding Father of his Church, he must care for his children, the believers who would willingly give their lives for him. He must provide for them, the gullible masses he could sway with mere words; he must give them something on which to focus their attention, through which to forget their misery and troubles.

At the moment, it was the other religions, their competitors. There had already been incidents of both peaceful and violent protests of his followers outside temples of the other religions against their bigotry. But somehow, he knew that it was not enough. Even though the other religions were being marginalized and lost people to his Church daily, he knew that he needed a bigger goal for the masses soon.

That was exactly the purpose of his trip. On the other side of the planet, there was a country that showed promise for his Church to expand. He had already dispatched missionaries to spread his faith, but it seemed that there was still too much to be done. The old religions were still deep-seated, and it would take none other than him to unseat them.

"Souichirou." Someone called for him in his mind. There was only one being on the planet that would address him this way; he quickly mushed the butt of his cigar on the ashtray and stood up. His servants, secretaries and guards filed out of the room as quickly as the voice ended, as if they received some inaudible order.

"Yes, Patriarch." He answered silently in his mind.

"Your target is Mitakihara, Magus. The population there shows promise." Somehow the name of Mitakihara sounded familiar to him, but he quickly banished the thought to concentrate on the voice in his head. Underground in the grand cathedral he built for him, the owner of the voice must be busy at his work along with his children, Souichirou thought.

"Indeed. My missionaries had already reported a concentration of specimen ideal for our cause."

"For the continued survival of our Brood, you must not fail."

"I shall not, Patriarch." He stood up with a grunt. His plane just finished the refuel and resupply, and it was ready for him and his retinue.

This shall be his finest hour, he thought with a smile.

* * *

><p>Hitomi skipped her piano lesson for the first time in her life. Somehow, she just did not feel like going to class today, not after what happened in the morning.<p>

Sayaka and Madoka must be mad at her for lashing out at them so suddenly and so violently, Hitomi thought as she strolled aimlessly on the street. The afternoon sun was indifferent to her predicaments, and shadows of trees danced mockingly with the wind. Ever since the morning, neither Sayaka nor Madoka spoke a word with her. Madoka even made a point to avert her eyes whenever she tried to make eye contact.

Hitomi smiled with all the bitterness in her heart. She never knew that she could scream so loud for such a long time, either, but Sayaka and Madoka deserved whatever she threw at them. How could they not trust her? Had she not been their friend since elementary school? What else could she have done to earn their trust?

Before long, she came up to the abandoned building across the bridge from town. The setting sun painted the cracked and dirtied wall of the building crimson, one that reminded her of that day when she saw Mami for the first time.

It also reminded her of blood, and Mami's last moments began to replay in her eyes. She could imagine the horror on Mami's face when she stared down the large mouth filled with razor sharp teeth as it closed around her head.

Hitomi's knees gave as her throat burnt from stomach acid that welled up. She choked a little and coughed, supporting her body with her hands and knees as bits of spit and acid came out. With nothing in her stomach, her body could not give her the satisfaction of throwing up.

"Are you okay?" A soft voice came from behind her as the owner of the voice put her hand on Hitomi's shoulder.

"… I'll… I'll be fine." Wiping the drool from the corner of her mouth, Hitomi regained the strength in her legs and she stood up. Behind her, a woman dressed in office lady attire looked at her with some concern. She had pitch black eyes and hair, which were tied behind her into a ponytail. A black dot decorated the corner of her lips.

It was the woman from that day, Hitomi recognized, even though she never saw her face up close until today. The mere thought of that day made Hitomi retch again, leaning heavily on the lady and covering her mouth with her hands.

"You don't look so well." The lady commented as she supported Hitomi. Hitomi shook her head; neither her body nor her mind was ill, and she could do little about the things that made her seem sick.

"Why… why did you come here?" Hitomi asked as she let go of the lady's support and stood on her own power. There must have been a reason for her to revisit the place where she tried to commit suicide, Hitomi thought. "There's nothing here but an abandoned building."

There was nothing but sad memories, a tombstone for the forgotten dead.

"I could ask you the same question." A warm smile painted the lady's face pink. "But, anyway… A week ago, I tried to kill myself here, but a girl saved me, and I tried to see if I could catch her here again, to express my gratitude."

Mami.

Tears would not stop rolling out of Hitomi's eyes. To know that there were people that, to this day, remembered what Mami had done for them and were grateful to her because of it was a great comfort to Hitomi. It did nothing to nurse the wound in her heart, though; rather, it made her cry harder than she had ever before.

"Wait, Miss, what's wrong?" The smile on the lady's face disappeared as it turned into a look of concern.

"… She's… she's…!" Before Hitomi could tell the lady the truth, though, her eyes caught something behind the lady and her body—her tongue, her lips, her eyes, her limbs—froze.

It was a creature the size of a large housecat, with snow-white fur and ears larger than its head. Even though its paws and hind legs looked like a cat's, the rest of its features looked nothing like a cat. It had no whiskers or even a nose, for example, but from each of its ears spouted a thick and wide "arm" that ended in three "fingers" that was covered with viridian-green fur. Each "finger" had a red crystalline spot on it, and a gold ring adorned each "arm". A thick lock of golden hair dangled on top of its head like poorly trimmed bangs. Its chest, too, was puffy with fur, but its color changed from white to gold to viridian-green. Its tail, unlike that of a cat's, was puffy and snow white, except at the end where it was viridian-green again.

But what caught Hitomi's gaze was not its strange features, nor was its cat-like posture. Its eyes were bright red, and its brows—two red dots—combined with them to form a permanent frown. Its mouth, too, bent into an inverted V, as if expressing its intense displeasure at the entire world.

The creature's stare mesmerized Hitomi for a second, and then it turned its tail and ran toward the bridge with surprising agility. Hitomi let go of the lady's support and dashed after the creature. Somehow, she was certain that if she caught up with the creature, it could answer all of her questions.

"Wait!" The lady's shout behind her faded quickly as Hitomi gave all her speed to the chase. She was slowly gaining on the creature, too, as it darted and hopped around on the sidewalk. Strangely, no one else on the sidewalk noticed the creature, nor did they find it strange that Hitomi was sprinting like her life depended on it.

She slid to a stop in front of the hospital building, having lost sight of the creature as it skidded a turn. Night had already wrapped the city under its heavy cloak, and street lights blinked on one by one, providing people with much needed illumination as they went about their business.

Searching for the small creature under such circumstances would be impossible, Hitomi decided. She let out a heavy sigh as she adjusted her rapid breathing. Her one chance of getting some answers to make sense of the situation slipped out of her grasp. Maybe Kane would know more about everything and he could tell her more about the daemons and why Sayaka and Madoka must fight them…

But Kane was nowhere to be found. After Mami's death, he simply vanished without a trace, leaving her behind to grieve for herself. Hitomi thought he cared for her and he wanted to help her; but instead, he brought her to see what went on inside the barrier because of simple pity.

And how pitiful she was! Her heart battered and broken, she could not speak of what she had seen to anyone. She had violently shoved away the only people she could talk to about her grief with a barrage of scathing words in the morning. She was truly without a friend in the world; no one, and nothing, would help her.

"That is not true." A voice rang in her head as she sank into an empty bench. The wood was cold to the touch, but she no longer had a care in the world. "We can help you."

Certainly, it was joking; Hitomi's smile returned and it had just as much bitterness as it did before. There was no one that could help her; even if someone could, they would not help a pathetic person who could not even get her "friends" to trust her.

"Don't you want to be happy?"

Hitomi wanted to be happy, but happiness seemed so far out of her reach. It was like the crescent moon that hung low in the dark blue dome. No, it was more like the faint star that glimmered in the night sky; if Hitomi blinked once, it would be gone forever from her sight, never to be found again.

"We'll help you! Come to us, and we'll all live happily ever after, together!"

A wave of strange warmth wrapped around Hitomi as she shuddered in a cold breeze. It was as if something compelled her to stand up. Her legs shook and her body wobbled a bit before she could find her bearings.

She knew what to do. She knew where to go. She knew who to trust.

She knew how to live happily ever after.

Without her knowing, an ornate black symbol appeared on her neck.


	12. XI

**XI: There Are Such Things as Magic and Miracles, Part II**

Author's Note:

I apologize for the wait. This chapter took me quite a bit of time to construct. I think that I will move to make the chapters contain a bit more material from now on, and not break episodes into two or more chapters.

This chapter sheds some light on how Magical Girls are created in this universe, and their connection to... well, read and you'll find out.

Please review and comment! Your Goddess demands it!

* * *

><p>Madoka's heart raced as she stood in front of the wooden door. It was one with which she was all too familiar; she even knew what view she would see immediately when she opened it. The sign "Tomoe" was to the left above the doorbell. It was the last name of her dearest friend.<p>

She rang the doorbell. Even though she knew there was not going to be a response, she still pressed it. Madoka decided that she must be polite to the owner of the apartment: she had earned Madoka's respect, and she deserved every bit of it.

"_Shitsurei itashimasu_." Madoka whispered with the quietest voice she could make. Then, with all the courage she could muster, she put her trembling hand on the door handle, and tugged.

The handle was cold to the touch and specks of dust had already settled there. The door creaked open with little effort, and Madoka was greeted with a view of the setting sun as it spilled the color of blood all over the wooden floor through the wall of glass.

With the utmost care, she took off her shoes and stepped onto the floor. It was as if she was back in the afternoon tea party that Mami hosted. She would sit on the side of the triangular tea table with Sayaka beside her, while Mami brewed tea and sliced a cake. They would gossip about what they had seen or heard at school, and laughter would break out between them as she enjoyed the heavenly taste of a perfect cup of tea with a decadent bite of cake.

Madoka quickly snapped back to reality and let out a heavy sigh. There was no one here. The dishes from their previous tea party were left in the sink untouched. The unfinished cup and pot were still left on the tea table, along with a magazine for tea enthusiasts. Mami would always leave one or two around, and it seemed like she had a subscription of it for a long time, because there was a whole bookshelf of them.

She pulled out the notebook with her sketches on them. It was one of the final memories of Mami for her. She had made a crude sketch of Mami's costume on it out of boredom in class, but she could never have thought in her wildest nightmares that it was one of the last pieces of physical memory that she had of Mami.

This must all be a nightmare, Madoka thought. Mami's death was a nightmare. The scuffle with Hitomi that morning must also be a nightmare. Everything was a nightmare, a nightmare from which she could never wake up no matter how much she tried.

She quietly left the notebook on the tea table, on top of the tea magazine. She could not think of a more appropriate tribute to Mami. Her memories—the memories Madoka had made with her—would live on, even long after her tragic end, even without the sketches. Madoka would never forget: never for a second would she forget what Mami had done for her, and never for a second would she forget how Mami gave her purpose in a life that had been void of it.

Small whisperings could be heard through the door. It was time for people to return home from work, and several had just walked by Mami's room, talking and laughing like there was nothing wrong with the world. They would not remember Mami, Madoka mourned, because her work was unknown to the populace. But she would, she swore; she would remember Mami until the end of her days.

Just as she laid the notebook down, though, she saw a little book under the tea magazine. With a little curiosity, she pulled the book out gently, and her eyes widened when she saw the book's cover.

It was a notebook for school, with cute cake and teacup patterns on a lemon-yellow front cover. It was typical of Mami to choose such a cover, Madoka thought with a sad smile, but it was not until her eyes reached the place where Mami's name was scribbled that she almost lost her voice and read the words out in a trembling whisper:

"Diary, Tomoe Mami."

Madoka's heart pounded and her face became red hot. She flipped open the cover page with her trembling hand, and with a hoarse croak she began to read out the words scribbled on the pages.

* * *

><p>XXXX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

Mom and Dad took me to a really nice tea shop today. They said it was a place that they used to have their dates at! I'm shocked that it still exists, considering their age, but don't tell them that or they'll get really angry at me ^_~

Anyway, the cake was really great at that place! Mom got me a slice of strawberry cheesecake that she used to eat when she went on dates with Dad, and it is awesome (~_~)! The tea is awesome too ^3^! Nomnomnom!

I wish I could eat that cake more often!

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

Mom and Dad decided to take me out to that tea shop again tomorrow because I did better on the exam rankings in my school v(*^_^*)v! I'm so happy! I so can't wait for it #^o^#!

I think it's a part of their strategy to get me to do better at school. Oh well, I don't care as long as I get a bite of that strawberry cheesecake again *(^_~)*!

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

The nurse finally let me write a diary again.

They say it was a miracle that I survived that massive crash with just a concussion and some broken bones, but I know it wasn't true. The white creature that saved me stood right now on my bed. His name is Kyubey, and he saved my life. I can't say the same for Mom and Dad, though…

Why am I the only one alive? Why did I not wish the rest of my family live as well? I'm so selfish… I only wanted myself to live…

I'm such a horrible person, aren't I, Diary?

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

Kyubey can't understand why I keep writing to you, Diary. You should tell him that we do things because we find them enjoyable, not because we need to do them.

But I need you. You're the only one that I can talk to now. I've moved myself to Mitakihara, because the people at my old city thought that I was insane when I talk about Magical Girls and wishes and miracles and stuff like that.

I know better than that now. It was my secret, being a Magical Girl. No one else should know. No one would be my friend. Not that it matters, anyway; it's not like any of them would understand.

Maybe it's repentance, repentance for my selfishness, repentance for my sins.

Maybe I'm destined to be alone forever.

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

I had a fight with Kyouko today.

I lost.

It wasn't that big a deal. A fight with her was not that big a deal. My wounds were not that big a deal. The crawl to home was not that big a deal.

But she left me, Diary. She left… she left…

I'm going to be alone again.

I don't want to be alone.

I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone.

I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone.

I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be alone…

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

I dreamed of Mom and Dad again last night. They were draped in bloody shreds of cloth and they were demanding their lives back. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well, but I still need to go out to hunt Witches tonight.

I don't know how long I can keep this up. If this mental torture is part of my penance then so be it, but I can't take the loneliness anymore! I… I think I'm going insane… I've been hearing things, seeing things… and there's a voice in my head! He's been there ever since I became a Magical Girl… ever since the accident… I'm going crazy, aren't I?

I bought myself a strawberry cheesecake last night; ordered it from the store Mom and Dad wanted to bring me on the day of the crash. It was awful. Did my taste change after I became a Magical Girl? I don't know.

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

I saved two girls today. Madoka and Sayaka. They seemed to go to the same school as I do, but just in a lower year.

Kyubey seemed to have picked them because they showed potential. I am just glad that they seemed friendly enough to me. They won't turn hostile on me when they become Magical Girls like Kyouko did, will they?

And there was another thing. There was a black-haired Magical Girl, and something was stalking her as she appeared and disappeared. The creature didn't seem so threatening at first, but then it closed in on me and…

They saw everything…

But I saw them, too. I saw her memories, the Far Seer named Kirahla. The visions…

I can't describe them here. They are too much.

XX/XX/XXXX

Dear Diary,

I have never been so happy since… forever, I suppose.

Madoka and Sayaka had been great friends. Although all they did is just following me around, I do appreciate their company.

It has been a while since I know people that I can talk to, people that can spend time with me without thinking that I'm insane.

It warms my heart.

Tomorrow, Sayaka's going to visit her prince, Kamijou. He's such a lucky guy! I wish someone would be waiting for me, too…

But I'm a Magical Girl. I'm a sinner. Things like love and joy are out of reach for me.

Are they, though? I'm pretty happy right now.

As long as Madoka and Sayaka are with me, I'll never be alone.

I'll never be alone. Ever. Again.

* * *

><p>Homura quietly approached Tomoe Mami's apartment. Inquisitor Kane was off to some other errand to which he must attend; he said that he was going to find Tomoe Mami's Soul Gem and retrieve it for study.<p>

To Homura, it was all the same. Without a body, Tomoe Mami could not help in the fight against Walpurgisnacht, and thus whether she lived or died was of little consequence to Homura. Having seen her die in one way or another countless times, she was simply glad that this time Mami only lost her body.

Still, not knowing the truth, Madoka had taken Mami's "death" especially hard. At the moment, it had achieved the effect Homura had intended: Madoka would think quite long and hard before deciding to become a Magical Girl.

"But it's always difficult to see her suffer." She spoke to herself and to the voice inside her head. Indeed, ever since the unfortunate incident inside the Witch's barrier, Madoka had been lethargic. Not even once did she smile, and always, after school, she would leave quickly, leaving even Sayaka behind.

"The loss of a loved one is always difficult."

"Loved one?" Homura raised an eyebrow as the sliding door to Mami's apartment opened. It was an interesting choice of words to describe Tomoe Mami, but Homura could not argue much against it. Mami was the guardian and mentor of Madoka, much like how…

"She will need time to nurse her wounds—"

"Madoka."

Homura's breathing almost stopped as she saw the pink-haired figure strolling out of the building. Madoka seemed to have shrunk a bit since that day, and she had heavy black rings around her eyes. A glint at the corner of Madoka's eyes caught Homura's attention, though.

Madoka had cried, and it wracked Homura's heart to see her in that state. But Homura knew that all she could do at the moment was to remain expressionless and reinforce the lesson she hoped to teach Madoka with Mami's presumed death.

"You do not have to do this, my child." The voice echoed in her head, concerned about her emotional state.

"I know." Homura whispered, her fists tightening so much that her nails dug into her palms. "But I _need_ to do this."

"Homura-chan…" The way Madoka referred to her did not cheer Homura up a bit, given how she tried to rub away her tears when she said it. You are a lousy liar, Kaname Madoka; Homura thought as she took a step. Her footsteps apparently rattled Madoka a bit, as Madoka let out a small yelp of surprise. Was she afraid? Homura wondered as she stared into Madoka, only to find her eyes darting around as if in a panic, purposefully avoiding Homura's stare.

"You listened to my warning." Homura almost bit her lips as she spoke. Madoka's eyes stared only at Homura's feet. A small and hoarse "yeah" escaped the pink-haired girl.

"I am glad that I could save you. Only death may release us from our torment." Homura's eyes finally met Madoka's, when they were but an arm's length from each other. Tears rolled around in Madoka's blood-shot eyes, and Homura felt a strange tightness in her chest. "Death is the best end we Magical Girls could wish for, sinners as we are."

"Don't say that!" Madoka's scream turned a couple of heads. Homura glanced around and saw only people who were returning home to the apartment complex. She steadied her breath, before forcefully taking up Madoka's hand and yanked her from the entrance of the building.

"Homura-chan…" Madoka continued as they ran along a bridge. The sinking sun projected their shadows into thick lines of twilight against crimson. To their left, trees stood silent in the windless dusk, while machinery on the right hummed and buzzed as they should.

"It is not yet time to reveal the secret to her yet."

"You would rather see her suffer like this!" Madoka crashed into Homura's back when she made a sudden stop from their sprint, and both of them were on the ground.

"Have faith in me, child."

"Homura-chan… what was that? Who were you talking to?"

"I was, um, simply talking to myself." Revealing His presence would be most unwise, for that rat bastard surely kept watch on Madoka even though it had apparently left her alone; Homura decided in a split second. She simply could not take the risk of endangering the entire planet, and most importantly, Madoka's life.

Madoka tilted her head with a puzzled look, but she pressed the issue no further. Instead, she pulled Homura onto her feet, and helped her pat the dust away from her skirt: "Homura-chan, you seem like a strange person."

Am I? Homura mused. "We Magical Girls can be a little… unhinged at times." Especially with a voice in my head, Homura snapped at Him, who simply gave a reserved smile in response.

"You are a veteran, aren't you? I could tell you're like Miss Mami, but you're different."

"In a manner of speaking, I am."

"Then, you've seen people die before? Like what happened that day?"

Homura bit her lips. "The business of a Magical Girl is to grant peace, Kaname Madoka. We give peace to our comrades and our enemies. I have done so many times."

"… how many?" After an uncomfortable break of silence, Madoka asked under her breath.

"Enough that I stopped counting." Homura could hear Madoka draw in a sharp breath. Her sigh that followed made Homura's chest constrict again. How long must she suffer like so? How long must Homura keep her in the dark and artificially prolong her suffering?

"Do you remember what happened when we attempted that?" And Homura almost lost her composure. As much as Homura hated to admit, He was right. It would not be wise to cause Madoka mental trauma at the time of her weakness; there would be better times for that, if it could not be avoided altogether.

"We Magical Girls are sinners." Homura continued with her voice barely audible. "We fight Witches and other Magical Girls for salvation; salvation for us, or for them. We seek death, because death created us and death shall release us…"

"Stop saying that!" Madoka screamed again, her voice piercing the background rumble of machinery, echoing through the silent trees.

"Stop saying such morbid things!" Homura was not surprised. Madoka had always been like that. She had always been the kind and caring girl Homura knew. "You and Miss Mami! You're all good people who care about others more than yourself! You aren't sinners at all!"

"And what do you understand about us?"

"You aren't bad people; at least I know that much! Or you wouldn't stop me from becoming a Magical Girl! Or Mami wouldn't tell us about the dangers we face as Magical Girls!"

"… Thank you, Kaname Madoka. One day; one day, you will understand that your kindness could also bring even greater pain." Homura spun around, facing away from Madoka. It was too difficult facing Madoka's pure and untainted brightness; for someone who belonged in the shadows, Homura could never get used to the light. But for her purposes—for His purposes—she must remain in the shadows, as much as she would like to bathe in the light.

"And until then, I shall protect you with all I have."

* * *

><p>The siege against the Far Seer's shield shell continued as the possessed construct absorbed more and more material to grow itself. Soon, Azrael estimated, it would become as large as a complete Wraithguard, and then its defeat would be beyond their capabilities.<p>

He could not care less about having it run rampant against the city's inhabitants; after all, _mon-keigh_ lives were worth less than trash to him. What he could not tolerate, though, was its massacre of almost his entire war host. He was not about to let that blood debt slide.

"Its attacks are too intense." The Warp Spider Exarch commented as he materialized inside the bubble again, his spinneret rifle still whining. "We need a plan."

"The Waystone was obviously tainted; whatever method they used to create the stone must be vulnerable to corruption and thus worthless to us. For us to be out of this mess, we must either destroy it or purge it." Kirahla added. The shield sphere's size shrunk further; it was a measure to both conserve her psychic strength and to enhance the protection. Hundreds of wraithbone tentacles pounded against her shield: some grew grotesque tumors on their ends and bashed the shield like maces, while others sharpened their extremities and stabbed at it like daggers.

"Easier said than done." Azrael could even see the sweat rolling off of the Far Seer's cheeks. She winced almost continuously, since the attacks were relentless; the maintenance of the shield must be painful for her, but she deserved to suffer a little for her carelessness, Azrael thought.

"Nothing worth doing is ever easy, Pathfinder." She squeezed a dry smile at Azrael. "I have a plan, but neither of you is going to like it."

"What's on your mind?" In a blink of an eye, the Exarch teleported out and back into the shield sphere. In that same blink, more than two dozens of tentacles were severed. The severed wraithbone writhed and twitched on the ground before they gave up and lay motionless.

"One of us will have to be the bait, to distract the abomination long enough for the other to shatter the stone. I cannot hold the shield for much longer, but if someone can distract it, I can use whatever power I have left and force it to reveal the Waystone."

"Then it's decided." The Exarch sighed and took off his helmet. Azrael noted that he was not the most handsome Eldar, but the scars on his face told a tale of countless acts of courage on behalf of their species, and he was about to make another.

"I shall be the bait." With grim determination, the Exarch cast aside his helmet and turned to address Azrael. "I shall use my skills to distract it."

"And I shall end this entire thing with a single shot." Azrael affirmed, loading his long rifle with his last magazine. "Let us get this over with. May the gods watch over all of us!"

Before Azrael even finished pronouncing the word, the Exarch disappeared. A series of shrill noises filled the air, accompanied by several flashes of brilliance. With each flash, several tentacles were severed with a volley of almost invisible projectiles.

The Wraithguard howled in agony as it tried to regenerate lost tendrils as if it was alive. The intensity of attacks on Kirahla's shield weakened as it tried to remove the more immediate threat. A burst from the Exarch's spinneret rifle sliced another dozen tentacles off. That was the last straw, apparently, for the construct as it shifted all its limbs with reckless abandon at the Exarch.

The Far Seer immediately collapsed the spherical barrier, and Azrael blended into the shadows. He needed a better position in order to shield himself from danger and to ensure his accuracy. The Far Seer, too, hid inside dense shrubbery; she needed time to gather her psychic power and weave the necessary spell.

The flashes and shrieks became more and more frequent as the Exarch hopped through the Warp to avoid the attacks. Azrael knew that he needed help; Warp Spiders were not known to make several jumps in a single second, and he was all but certain that his blink pack would give in soon.

What irritated him, though, was that he could do nothing but watch. To provide support for the Exarch at this point would reveal his position and consequently ruin the entire plan, and it may even get all of them killed.

He could feel the Far Seer as she again gathered psychic power. To achieve the feat she was attempting, it would require either an elaborate ritual from a group of Bonesingers, or a tremendous amount of psychic energy. Feeling the tightening vice around his mind, Azrael took a deep breath and aimed down his rifle.

This would be their only shot.

The runes on the Far Seer's robe let out a burst of brilliant light as she sent out a visible shot of psychic energy. It hit the Wraithguard on its head, and Azrael could see that the wraithbone around the symbol of Nurgle began to unravel.

Feeling its safety threatened, the daemon inside the construct immediately whipped the tentacles around and shot them at the Far Seer. Using this opportunity, the Exarch teleported beside the deformed body of the Wraithguard, and with a slice of his combat dagger severed its head.

The tentacles stopped inches in front of the Far Seer's face. Without the daemon's control, they quickly collapsed into lifeless pieces of wraithbone, slowly contracting back into the Wraithguard's body.

It was his only chance; Azrael stared at the airborne head as his perceived time slowed to a halt. With a long inhale, he squeezed the trigger.

* * *

><p>"No… No!"<p>

"What's the matter, girl?"

"That's… you shouldn't kill them!"

"I'm not killing them! I'm simply inviting them to join us!"

"This isn't what they wanted! This isn't what _I_ wanted!"

"All shall receive the gift of Grandpa Nurgle! Even now, their souls whirl in joy and jubilation within me! Listen, and rejoice!"

"ARGH! Oh god…! They are… writhing…! The pain… the agony… I can't…! I can't… stand it… anymore! STOP…!"

"Yes! Share their happiness! Join them! Join them and sing praises for Grandfather Nurgle!"

"… never…! … NEVER…!"

* * *

><p>He missed.<p>

The Wraithguard head extended several short flippers and suddenly dropped in speed. Azrael's bullet simply punched a hole in a flipper, and then bounced off of thick wraithbone.

His hands were trembling, his eyes wide with disbelief. How could it be? The daemon was aware of their plans and prepared accordingly! It should have been too distracted to notice Azrael's slip into the shadows!

"MOVE!" Azrael could only parry a tentacle with his rifle as several more came in quick succession. He was too focused on the missed shot to have seen the danger coming, and if it were not for the Far Seer he surely would have been impaled.

Like a snake, Azrael almost slithered off of the tree branch on which he had been standing moments before a tentacle severed it with a clean slice. He tucked his body into a roll as he landed, narrowly avoiding another tendril that went for his head. As he came out of that roll, his rifle parried another strike, which stabbed into the barrel and almost penetrated it. He discarded it immediately; a weapon that could no longer fire was of no use to him.

Azrael had lost his only mean to attack at range: the only good he could do was either to become a shield for the Far Seer, or move in to strike with his knife. Neither choice was pleasant, as neither one had a high chance of survival, but he had to act. Without much thought, he drew his knife from its sheath in a reverse grip, and with a deep breath he dashed toward its target with grim determination in his eyes.

The Far Seer sent out streaks of psychic lightning that fried several tentacles in his way. His target was then lying on the ground with its side up, and despite its small size it continued to send out vicious tentacles at the attacking Eldar. Azrael observed no chance for him to both attack successfully and keep his life at the same time: the tentacles, sparse as they were, were still too dense for him to close in safely.

Even if he had to sacrifice himself, he had to avenge all his brethren who died by this daemon's hand. It was still focusing its attacks on the Exarch, who had lowered the frequency of his hops through the Warp, but it attacked him with whatever it could spare, and that was still a significant amount of incoming fire to him. He circled around the head, dodging and parrying the tentacles with his knife.

Another blast of psychic lightning seemingly stunned the head. The Exarch moved in for the kill, but Azrael hesitated. Something did not feel right to him; something told him that it was too easy, that this apparent paralysis was a trap.

His caution paid off. The head suddenly turned into a porcupine and grew lethally toxic spikes all over its surface. With a gut-wrenching scream, several of those spikes skewered the Exarch in his chest and his limbs. Before Azrael could even react, one last spike drove into the Exarch's helmet and silencing his wail forever.

He could no longer turn back. His survival and the mission's success depended on him. Without even a thought, he twisted his body and grazed past a threatening tentacle. His knife screeched as it scraped against another tendril, shaving yellow dust off of its pustule-covered surface.

Azrael did not flinch as a bolt of psychic lightning from the Far Seer struck his knife, her war cry escaping his notice. His knife shone a brilliant white as psychic energy crackled from its edge, and within a split second he brought the charged knife down on the Wraithguard's head.

The hideous construct's screech made Azrael's ears bleed, but he did not stop. Resisting the last burst of psychic wail from the construct, he stabbed his knife deep into it.

What he did not notice was that his Waystone was resonating with the Wraithguard's wail. The resulting psychic explosion shoved him twenty feet into the air, and slammed him on the trunk of a fallen tree.

Just as Azrael drifted out of consciousness, a small voice—it was the _mon-keigh_'s, of that he was certain—echoed in his mind to his horror:

"Hello? Where am I? Who is this?"

* * *

><p>Sayaka slowly stepped into the hospital's rehabilitation garden. The area was constructed with the intention of assisting patients' recovery through the exposure of nature, and thus the place was adorned with a myriad of flowers and green plants which, in the setting sun, was colored a uniform blood red. Sayaka took in a deep breath of the air and filled her lungs with the refreshing fragrances of newly-mown grass. The smell was hardly refreshing for her, however; she had just had a fight with Kyousuke.<p>

He must be in the depth of his despair, Sayaka decided. There was no way that Kyousuke, being such a mild-mannered person, would spew words so venomous and so vile at her like he did that day. That was not him, Sayaka thought as she sat down slowly on a bench facing the small fountain at the center of the circle; that was not Kyousuke, but some sad creature consumed by his rage at fate and his hatred to the world.

Maybe she could have worked with another way to cheer him up; Sayaka bent forward and rested her cheeks on her palms, the sinking sun projecting her long and lazy shadow over the fountain. If she could just bring him, say, magazines or manga, he would be so much happier.

It was all her fault, then, she decided. She should have chosen something other than classical music CDs to comfort him. Indeed, those CDs may have done nothing but opening wounds in his heart, wounds that would only fester and bleed instead of healing.

She sunk her face in her palms as the realization hit her. Would it be the case that Kyousuke hated her because of her carelessness and her inconsideration? Did her gifts of CDs make him think that she took gleeful joy in watching him suffer, and wanted him to suffer forever? Did she just ruin her chances of becoming Kyousuke's partner?

She took another deep breath through her palms. Kyousuke's scent still lingered on them, a scent of which she could never get enough. It, however, stabbed at her like a sharp knife. She did not want to lose him; he, of all people, was the most precious person in her life at the moment. If he turned away from her, she would not know how to go on in life.

"Do you want his wish to come true, or do you want him to be thankful that you are the one who made it possible?" Mami's question still rang true in her mind, but Sayaka had made up her mind. She needed a way out of this situation, Sayaka stood up with determination. She needed to help him, to prove to him that she only thought of him, and she only wished for his happiness. Only then would he warm up to her again, Sayaka decided; only then would she have another chance.

And for this chance, she would pay whatever price that would be asked of her. She would make him happy with whatever means necessary. And then, she would be at his side, and the story would end with them living happily ever after.

She shifted her eyes at the small creature standing on the edge of the fountain, with beady ruby eyes and a white fluffy tail. If only she was ready for this a few days earlier, Sayaka lamented; if only that was the case, Mami would not have perished.

"Are you ready, Miki Sayaka?" Kyubey's melodious voice could not soothe Sayaka's heart as she stared nervously into the creature's eyes. She closed her hands around her nose and mouth and took one last deep breath. Kyousuke's scent filled her lungs, and that seemed to have calmed her body down somewhat.

"… Yeah. I'm ready." She answered finally, with a frown of determination and fists of iron will. There was no turning back. There would never be a turning back. She would start to fight Witches until she die, and her work would never be known to common people, not even to Kyousuke.

But for his sake, she would make the sacrifice. For his sake, she would do anything.

"Then, Miki Sayaka, state your wish."

"You'll make any wish come true, won't you?"

"Indeed. State any wish, and I shall fulfill it for you."

"Then," with that last small bit of doubt cleared away, Sayaka finally stabilized her trembling voice. "I wish that Kamijou Kyousuke could be cured of his paralysis and made whole again."

"In exchange for this wish, Miki Sayaka shall become a Magical Girl, and it shall be done." Kyubey replied. Sayaka's body tensed as Kyubey's ears extended, their shape changing into that of an arm. Slowly they approached Sayaka's bosom, and she almost made an attempt to deflect them away as they merged into Sayaka's chest.

Sayaka felt as if something was being yanked out of her. It was not an organ, nor was it something that would kill her, but the discomfort still made her grunt. Her body arced backwards, her arm dangling powerlessly to the side as Kyubey's ears—no, arms—lifted her entire body up with little effort. Right before her eyes, she saw something beautiful appear, clutched in Kyubey's arms. It was a gem, shining an aquatic blue and gleaming under the sinking sun's crimson rays. As it separated from her body, Sayaka's discomfort grew bit by bit, as if her body would not let go of the gem. Her moan almost changed into a scream as a final tug pulled the brilliant gem free of her chest, and the feeling of emptiness filled her mind.

"Now, take hold of it, Miki Sayaka." Kyubey's voice somehow became more foreboding to Sayaka as she fell onto her back, her eyes mesmerized by the brilliant azure. It was her Soul Gem, her source of power, and the proof of her sacrifice. She had become a Magical Girl to bring happiness to others, to protect the innocent, and to bring justice to the world.

As the Soul Gem slowly lowered into her palms, however, another voice rang in her mind, which almost caused her to drop the fragile-looking gemstone:

"Greetings, little girl."

"Who… are you?" Sayaka asked meekly as the Soul Gem rested in her clutches, cold against the touch. The voice must have been part of the ritual, she decided.

"I have been sent to help you on your quest and judge if you are worthy of my god's favor. Rest easy, for I am not an enemy of yours, Miki Sayaka."

"Your… god's… favor?" Mami never spoke of anything like that, even though she did say that sometimes she thought there was another voice in her head, Sayaka noted. This must be the "another voice" to which Mami was referring.

"My god demands blood, Miki Sayaka. Blood of Witches, blood of Magical Girls, blood of humans, he cares not which." The voice rumbled in her mind and Sayaka almost immediately regretted the decision to become a Magical Girl. This "god" did not sound benevolent at all to her: any god that demanded blood usually would not be benevolent, she reminded herself. "My god also scorns unworthy blood; blood of the powerless, blood of the meek, and blood of those who are truly weak."

"So… he's a god of war?" Kyubey was watching; Sayaka noticed as her eyes darted back and forth, listening intently to the voice in her head. Did Kyubey know about the voice in her head? Did Kyubey knowingly plant him inside her head, or was it simply a side effect of the contracting ritual?

"Indeed. He is the god of war, of bloodshed, and of valor. Your wish moved him deeply; if he finds you worthy, you shall become amongst his greatest champions in this world." The voice affirmed, and somehow Sayaka felt her own blood rushing to her head. Her cheeks flushed red and her entire body was filled with heat, heat that could only be removed through vigorous exercise.

It felt awesome, she thought. She had never felt so alive before, this sudden burst of vitality bolstering her resolve and igniting her fighting spirit. Her muscles rippled with energy, her heart thumped harder, and her entire body yearned for exertion as she unconsciously hopped around in place, beads of sweat trickling down to the ground from her fingers and her chin. The power—and the confidence—were refreshingly arousing, and her blush got even hotter.

"Your first task awaits, Sayaka." Kyubey nodded in approval, seemingly able to hear both her thoughts and the voice inside her. "Come, there is no time to lose."

* * *

><p>Madoka's sweat drenched her school uniform as she stumbled toward the wall behind her. In front, Hitomi approached her with a zombie-like stature and gait, her feet dragging across the floor and her body wavering left to right. She followed Hitomi to this warehouse here, after meeting her in the shopping district and suspecting that there was something amiss, but not even in her worst nightmare could she visualize the predicament she was in at that time.<p>

The black symbol on her neck terrified Madoka even more. She was under the influence of a Witch; all of the people in the warehouse were. They were from all age groups, but mostly people in their thirties and forties. Each of them looked lethargic; their movements were slow and aimless, their eyes drooping low.

A distinctive odor assaulted Madoka's nose. She looked over Hitomi's shoulders, and saw a woman mixing two bottles together inside a bucket—a bottle of bleach, and a bottle of drain cleaner. Greenish yellow gas began to emerge from the bucket, flowing out of the bucket and along the ground before disappearing into the air.

Madoka remembered somehow that those two were not supposed to be mixed together. Her mother once told her that "if they were mixed together, everyone will die." Her nose confirmed this, as her eyes blinked involuntarily from dryness and a stabbing itch.

"No, stop it!" Hitomi stopped her forward dash with a solid hit to her stomach. Madoka dropped down to all fours due to the pain, but she was not about to give up. "Everyone will die!"

"That's right." Hitomi confirmed with an eerie smile. "We're all going to paradise!"

She had to do something, Madoka decided, even as her limbs trembled. She had to do something, or the poorly ventilated warehouse would become their grave. With a kick she made a dash toward the bucket, her legs giving her a burst of speed that she herself thought impossible. Without looking, she grabbed the handle of the bucket, and tossed it toward a window with a spin of her body. The bucket crashed through the window, sending glass shards everywhere.

The crash, though, attracted the attention of everyone in the warehouse. With moans and groans, they stood up lazily, and walked toward Madoka. She had incurred their wrath: their brows knitted into knots even though they were not mentally sound.

"Why did you have to do that…?" Hitomi droned as she approached Madoka again, her arms and hands extended like a zombie in the movies. A dozen other people—all in their thirties—wobbled with Hitomi as they approached in a semicircle around Madoka, with their arms extended like Hitomi.

"But… you'll all die…!"

"I'm better off dead anyway…" Madoka had to duck under Hitomi's arms as she ran for a window. Frantic tugs on the window were not enough for it to budge; it had been sealed tight.

"What are you saying, Hitomi-chan!" As she screamed, Madoka noticed that more people started to join her pursuers. They moved faster and faster, forming an arc and steadily encroaching around Madoka's position.

"Even my friends hate me… I'm such a despicable stalker; I might as well die…" Madoka had no time to even think about those words, as her body acted without thought. She slipped under Hitomi's arms again, dashing toward a door in sight. The entire group of Witch-kissed people started to move against her as Madoka rattled the doorknob. It would not budge.

Was it locked? Madoka grabbed the knob with both her hands and twisted with all her might. Just as the first people moved into arm range, the knob turned; she was simply turning it in the wrong direction in her burst of panic. Madoka barreled through the opened door, and immediately tried to shut it with a scream of panic. Arms and legs banged against the door panel, and Madoka had to use all of her remaining energy to shove them out of her way, before firmly shutting the door with a bang and locking it.

Madoka almost collapsed. She leaned her back heavily against the door as she whimpered and panted. Her eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness. The room smelled of dust, mold and old plastic; it was apparently a small storage room for old tube television sets.

"What should I do… what should I do?" Madoka panicked as her back felt the forceful bashes on the door, but they were not even remotely her most immediate concerns. In front of her, as if in a nightmare, a glowing blob began to form. It colored everything in the room an eerie viridian, and it flowed like some extremely viscous liquid.

It was a Witch, Madoka was almost sure. The Witch that charmed everyone in the warehouse was in the same room with her. And she was alone.

There was nowhere to hide; the old TVs inside the room suddenly and simultaneously blinked to life. There was nowhere to run; the blob oozed around Madoka as familiars—creepy dolls with a halo above their heads—hopped out of the TV tubes and the blob, grabbing Madoka by the arms and legs.

"No… No!" She did not want to perish like this. She did not want to die like this. "Someone… Save me! Homura-chan…!"

In a flash of aquamarine, she re-emerged inside a strange space, floating in the middle of a giant egg-shaped blob. Around her, what seemed like film rolls of carousel spun around endlessly on a bubbly green wallpaper, with strange symbols adorning them.

She was upside down, Madoka suddenly realized. She made her best effort to return upright, but an invisible force kept her in her position, only allowing her to drift slightly. The carousel rolls closed in around her, and she noticed that on the back of the horses sat a TV, which—strangely—projected the image of Miss Mami, and Hitomi.

"Am I being punished? Punished for being weak and helpless? Punished for my hesitation? Punished for my lies?" Madoka could not save Miss Mami. And it was the argument with Hitomi in the morning that led to her despair and being charmed by the Witch. It was all her fault and the Witch intended to punish Madoka for her transgressions.

Why did she think of the Witch as sentient, having thoughts like human beings? Madoka mused in delirium as she unconsciously reached out to the TVs, only to have her arms and legs grabbed by the grotesque angelic-shaped dolls.

The pain that came after snapped Madoka out of her trance. The familiars were stretching her limbs to impossible lengths and she screamed in agony. The Witch intended to mutilate her body before consuming her soul; she could hear and feel her joints dislocating, the crackles and pops of her bones and ligaments sending her brain into a panicked frenzy as pain—indescribable, excruciating pain—shocked her nerves like a cold water splash in a winter day.

Her scream became distorted when the familiars grabbed her hair and tugged on it. They then found her lips and tugged on them. The Witch seemed to take sadistic glee as it made its familiars twist and pull Madoka's body, as its true form—a winged tube TV set—glided across Madoka's deformed face, sending maniacal laughter echoing throughout the strange space.

Just as Madoka was about to resign herself to her fate, she suddenly feel the pain disappear. Before she could even blink her eyes, her body was back to normal again, as if the pulling, stretching and tearing never took place. Three rays of beautiful azure tore across the Witch's barrier, shredding all the familiars that got their dirty paws on Madoka.

Before Madoka could process all this, though, another streak of brilliant cobalt skimmed inches in front of her nose as it slammed into the winged TV. The loud crash almost forced Madoka to cover her ears as both the TV and its assailant violently landed on the bottom of the egg.

It was then that Madoka finally saw the true form of her savior. Clad in a cape whiter than snow, she was a Magical Girl with short, disheveled hair, and somehow Madoka was familiar with her even though her face was never revealed directly.

With a light tap, Madoka landed on the same flat ground as the Magical Girl, and it was then that she saw the side of her face: "Sayaka-chan?"

It was Sayaka; the hairpins gave her identity away, not to mention the knowing smile she had displayed when she saw Madoka in her peripheral vision. But the Witch did not give them time to chat; already it was spitting out more of its disgusting dolls, and they marched toward Sayaka.

Sayaka took a confident step forward and drew her weapons: a pair of cutlasses gleamed cold cobalt, their edges hungering for blood. Madoka was certain that Sayaka took no fencing lessons, nor did she ever use a weapon other than a baseball bat in her life. But at that moment, Sayaka was cutting apart the familiars ferociously and efficiently, severing limbs at their joints and heads at their necks with savage precision.

It must be the power she gained through contracting, Madoka thought as she witnessed this one-sided massacre. In merely seconds, all the familiars around Sayaka—about a dozen of them—became nothing more than piles of dismembered doll parts.

Somehow Madoka felt the fear from the Witch as it screamed. Gliding across its Barrier, the Witch attempted to make more familiars to combat Sayaka. With a grunt, Sayaka made a superhuman leap at the winged TV set; even at the speed it was flying, it seemed that landing on top of it was effortless for Sayaka.

"This is the end!" She cried as she drove her blade into the Witch. They both plummeted toward the floor again, and with yet another loud crash they landed. Black matter gushed out of the Witch like a geyser, and the Barrier began to slowly collapse.

She did it. She beat the Witch! Madoka rubbed her eyes, before she made a dash toward Sayaka. High above the Witch's corpse, floating even above the fountain of black "blood", was the familiar shape of a Grief Seed.

It was then that Madoka noticed the damage Sayaka did to the warehouse. There was a huge triangular section missing from the exterior wall. The night wind blew through the hole, and Madoka shuddered; Sayaka must have made it to get to her, since going through the other side involved wading through people charmed by the Witch—and Hitomi.

Sayaka rested one of her cutlasses on the back of her neck, while the other pointed at the ground. She looked absolutely stunning, Madoka thought. Her armor—an azure breastplate with white faulds—hugged her form and accentuated her figure well, while some of her legs were exposed between the royal blue chausses skirt and the white stocking. Her arms were protected as well with a long and leathery blue vambrace wrapping along each arm over the elbow. Her hands, though, were shielded with a pair of white gloves. Her cloak was secured with a golden clasp at her neck, and it draped over Sayaka's shoulders.

"You're like a knight!" Madoka exclaimed without even thinking, which almost had Sayaka bursting out with laughter.

"That's right! I'm the knight who's come to rescue my princess!" She exclaimed, pointing her cutlass up high. "That was close, wasn't it? Sorry about the wait; I came as fast as I could."

And then, she turned and pointed her sword into the darkness: "What took you so long, transfer student?"

Homura emerged from the darkness. It was not difficult for Madoka to read her facial expression: her brows were tied into a knot and her eyes stared at Sayaka accusatively, as if Sayaka had just committed a crime most heinous.

"Miki Sayaka, you damned fool."


	13. XII

**XII: There's No Way I Regret Anything**

Author's Notes:

Here is the long-awaited new chapter. I stuffed the entire episode into one chapter, plus a little bit from Episode 6.

Some people wonder why there's no action, and nothing's blowing up just yet. I love stuff blowing up as much as the next guy, but it's not the time nor the place for explosions in the story just yet.

As for the (very valid) concern that this story is simply a retelling of the original series with some 40k cameos, my standpoint is this: whenever the 40k elements and the Madoka elements start interacting with each other significantly, it would be the equivalent of "feces hitting the fan", and a lot (a lot, and I mean A LOT) of explosions will ensue. The Warhammer 40k elements will need time to maneuver into position, and you should see significant involvement from them in about 4 chapters.

Finally, I do plan on trying to get these things out more quickly, so hopefully it's not going to be as long a wait as it was for this one.

Donate to the review offering box today! Your Immortal Goddess demands it!

* * *

><p>"I will never forget the promise we made…" Sayaka hummed as she hopped the stairs at the hospital. She could have taken the elevator down to the fifth floor, but she did not feel like it. The side effect of contracting for her, it seemed, was that she could barely sit still through the day at school. She also broke the record Homura set for the 100-meter dash in gym class, a feat that even had the gym teacher check her stopwatch more than four times.<p>

The strangest thing was that she did not feel even the slightest bit exhausted. Even as she slid down the handrails, she could not help but notice that the rates of her breathing and her heartbeats were only slightly higher than when she was staying still. Her legs were not even sore, when they should have been after a lot of running and several dozen steps.

"This is the gift that my god decided to bestow upon you, Miki Sayaka." The voice inside her head rumbled. "He enhanced your physical abilities far beyond the capabilities of a normal human. You are something greater than normal humans now, in every sense of the phrase."

"Tell him thanks." Sayaka grinned as she made a five-step leap, cushioned her landing with her hand, and with a somersault she landed at the entrance of the hallway. "This is awesome!"

"The gift from the Blood God is not to be trifled with, Miki Sayaka."

"Hey, loosen up, would you? He'll have his blood from the Witches I'm going to kill, and I'll have my fun with his gifts!" Sayaka pouted playfully for a little, hopping and dancing her way toward Kyousuke's room. Her spins and jumps turned quite a few heads in the hallway, including nurses who murmured behind Sayaka's back.

What should she say to him when she met him? Should she tell him that "because of my wish, your hands got healed?" Sayaka considered as she danced. No, that would be fishing for his thanks, she decided; she did not make the wish because she wanted gratitude.

Like a small whirlwind she spun to Kyousuke's room, and the door obediently slid open. Kyousuke was sitting in a wheel chair facing the open window, the open curtains undulating gently in the evening wind.

A waft of the room's air hit Sayaka in the face like a pillow. The heady scent of Kamijou's body mixed with fragrances of fruits and flowers made Sayaka's face flush with burning blood. Subconsciously, she touched her face with her palms, and the coldness almost made her whimper.

Kyousuke sat in his wheelchair in front of the wide-open windows. The sky outside was an orange red, and the sinking sun left his long shadow on the ground. He seemed much more serene than the other day, Sayaka thought with a smile; perhaps he was no longer mad at her.

He used both his hands to turn the wheelchair. It used to be impossible for him, Sayaka noted with another smile. A lot of things used to be impossible for him, but because of her wish, she had made them possible again. I wonder if he would be grateful to me, Sayaka mused; but then again, when he saw what they had prepared for him today, he would thank all of them, and not just her. She crossed her hands behind her back and leaned forward with the biggest smile she could muster: "I'm here again, Kyousuke."

"Hey there." His smile was mesmerizing; so captivated was her that she forgot to speak, her mouth only opened and closed with a small whimper. "What's up with you today? Cat caught your tongue?"

"Uh, um, no…" His voice snapped her out of her trance and she drew in a long breath. His scent filled her nostrils and lungs and her blood boiled even more. "I just want to know how you're doing, is all."

He chuckled, and she giggled nervously with him. "I'm doing great!" He said, lifting his hands into view. His arms were still a bit thin, Sayaka noticed, but they should improve now that he could use both of his arms again.

"It's as if it was all just a nightmare." Kyousuke breathed, flexing his fingers and arms and seemingly watching in amazement. "I still couldn't believe it."

"So, you're not getting released yet?"

"No." He shook his head, "The doctors wanted to observe it a little bit more. There are so many things that are not wrong with my body; they can't believe it, either."

"Well, all is right with the world now, isn't it?" Sayaka bent over and put her hands on her knees, her face only a foot from his. "So, what are you going to do now that you got both hands back?"

"Listen, Sayaka…" Kyousuke bowed his head, his voice lowering almost to a whisper, "about the other day…"

"There's no need." Even though his lashing out at her was one of the triggers for her decision, Sayaka never wanted him to apologize. He was not the one at fault; he was not the person to blame. It was her insensitivity and her carelessness that provoked him. "Don't worry about it."

"But…"

"Seriously, don't worry about it." Sayaka's smile seemed to seal Kyousuke's lips. She hopped behind the wheelchair and gripped the handle. "It's almost time. Should we go for a walk?"

She gave Kyousuke no time to dissent, as she gently pushed the wheelchair out of the room, through the hallway and onto the elevator. "Aren't we going downstairs? What are we going to the roof?" He asked quizzically as the elevator began to rise, tilting his head to the back and looking at Sayaka, but Sayaka pressed her index finger to her lips and shushed him.

"You'll know soon enough." She said with a smile, and Kyousuke smiled with her. They did not speak until they exited, but Sayaka felt a strange sense of contentment in the silence, as if all was right with the world. Indeed, now that Kyousuke regained the use of his limbs, everything was as it should be.

"We're here." The wind ruffled Sayaka's hair as they came to the rooftop. The sun sprayed everything with an orange hue and it casted Sayaka and Kyousuke's shadow down the featureless roof, toward the row of people standing in front of them.

Sayaka slowly pushed the wheelchair toward the gathered group, and they started to applaud. The group consisted of doctors, nurses, and Kyousuke's parents; Sayaka had called them together that day for this occasion.

She bent her body low and whispered in Kyousuke's ears, as the boy remained wide-eyed and his mouth agape: "It's a surprise party for you."

"I can't bring myself to throw this away as you asked." Kyousuke's father walked forth with a violin case in hand. "I'm glad I kept it around for you."

He gingerly placed the case on Kyousuke's lap, who immediately opened it like a child on Christmas morning. The violin laid there, its wooden body colored a deep red in the sinking sun. Holding it by its neck, he simply stared at the instrument for what seemed like eternity. Sayaka could only imagine what thoughts he had at the moment, as his trembling hand returned the violin to the case and picked up the bow.

Sayaka could smell the aroma of rosin coming from the case. Kyousuke pulled a small block of it from the pocket on the case lid, and rubbed it against the bow hair. He was careful and methodical, caressing every inch of the bow string with the dark amber substance. Once again holding the instrument tenderly as he would with a living creature, Kyousuke rested his cheek on it, and pushed the bow against the strings.

Sayaka had not heard anything remotely as beautiful in a long time. Kyousuke had not lost his touch, even though he was paralyzed for quite a while. His upper body danced with the music, rocking back and forth with his bow, and Sayaka noticed that his eyes had even closed, playing purely from muscle memory.

He was savoring the moment as he should be, Sayaka smiled; after all, it was the first time he got to play his favorite instrument in a long time. The adults were indulging themselves in the melody, too; all of them looked at Kyousuke with proud smiles.

Her sacrifice was worth it; Sayaka decided as she, too, sank herself into the music.

For his happiness, she would do anything.

* * *

><p>Hitomi slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying on a park bench.<p>

She was exhausted, but she could not remember anything that happened after she chased after that strange creature. She stared up at the sky; the crescent moon climbed high into the heavens, showering silver light on her surroundings.

There was something amiss, Hitomi realized. Something bad definitely happened in her memory gap, but she could not remember in the slightest. She attempted to rise, but a firm hand pressing on her collar bones stopped her.

"You need rest." And she realized that it was Inquisitor Kane, who sat beside her. Hitomi closed her eyes and let out a comfortable sigh as his shadow wrapped around her; she suddenly felt more exhausted than she did when she first woke up.

"… I've looked for you." Hitomi whispered, and Kane's joints gave a slight squeak as his hand left. "I need your advice."

"You have questions." The large man rumbled, and Hitomi nodded in reply. "You are hoping that I may be able to answer them."

"You seem to have all the answers in the world."

"I do not, but she does." Hitomi opened her eyes again, and turned her head toward the street lamp. Leaning against it, a black-haired girl stood with her arms crossed before her chest and her right leg over her left. It was Akemi Homura the transfer student, Hitomi realized. She knew Homura was involved with the absurdity, but she did not expect in the least that Kane was in contact with Homura as well.

"You are awake, Shizuki Hitomi." The black-haired Magical Girl stated the obvious with her flat voice, and Hitomi felt an electric chill up her spine. Her eyes were then involuntarily attracted to the small amulet in front of Homura's chest; somehow, Hitomi knew that there was something significant in that symbol, seeing both Kane and Homura had an ornament like that.

Kane made no attempt this time to stop Hitomi from rising. She stretched her limbs out a couple of times, before standing up and hopping around in place for a bit. "My memory is still blurry about what happened in the past few hours before I blacked out. Can you fill me in?"

Homura shook her head as she stopped leaning against the lamp post. "I just got here with the Inquisitor."

"I have questions, and I hope you can answer them, you being a Magical Girl." Hitomi picked up her school bag and let it hang on her hands in front of her thigh. "My friends are in apparent danger, and I want to know how to help."

Homura flicked her hair with her left hand. It was a small gesture Hitomi had seen countless times—in class, outside class, before school and after school—and it had charmed dozens, if not hundreds, of boys and girls alike. "Madoka is mine to protect."

"I am sure you would appreciate some help with that." The soft rejection was not enough to stop Hitomi. She put her right hand on her hip, and stared intently into Homura's dark emotionless eyes. She could not afford to back down on this chance to fully understand the situation.

"I don't think you'll be much help."

"You needed an inside source, someone close enough with Madoka and Sayaka to monitor them." Hitomi tried to slow her breathing. Homura was not the type to trust easily; this much Hitomi could read from her. Still, this was a chance to have all her questions answered, to have all her doubts cleared, and to get a handle on the situation; Hitomi could ill afford letting this opportunity go. "And I need an explanation of what exactly is going on. I want my friends to come out of this alive and unharmed, and I want to understand what they're going through."

Homura flicked her hair again, before turning her back on Hitomi: "You may regret that decision. Very well, then; let's discuss this at my place, where it's more comfortable."

"Let's go." With a gesture, she started walking into the darkness, her hips swaggering slightly and her hair swaying in the weak night wind. Homura was truly a beautiful girl; Hitomi thought as she followed with Kane behind her.

The walk from the park to Homura's residence was not a long one. Two school girls walking on a busy street at night did not attract much attention, as Hitomi was sure Kane had shielded himself from the eyes of those unaware. The streets were lined with brilliant and colorful lights, and pedestrians lazing about in the bristling night life of Mitakihara; it was a pity that they were not aware of the secret struggle, Hitomi thought.

It made her feel privileged, somehow. She, out of so many normal humans in Mitakihara, had experience not only with supernatural Magical Girls, but also with humans from another planet. There probably would not be a second person in Mitakihara that had the same experience as she did.

Except, maybe Madoka. Homura had an odd obsession with her, Hitomi noticed; ever since she transferred to Mitakihara High, Homura had paid attention to Madoka, almost always present when she was around.

"We're here." Homura's residence surprised Hitomi a little. It was in the middle of a deep, dark alley, an ornate townhouse with no front yard and no garage. The bustle of the city center seemed so far away, the twilight in the alley stopping the light and noise at the entrance.

"Are your parents going to be okay with us visiting?" Hitomi wondered. The house seemed too large to be the home for a single school girl. Besides, the living room was lit; milky white light leaked out of the stained glass windows beside the armored door.

"I live alone." Homura opened the armored door with a few twists from her key. Light spilled forth from the entrance, and Hitomi stopped at the doorway. The inside of the house was surprisingly spacious, with a large living/dining room and a much smaller kitchen. A circular glass tea table sat to the left of the living room, with colorful benches and sofa around it. LCD screens covered the wall beside the tea table, but none of them was on at the time.

A pair of soldiers in dress uniform stood at attention as they entered. They were slightly smaller than Kane, but they were at least six feet tall. One of them had ribbons and medals hanging on the left side of his chest like a curtain, while the other wore a grey long coat, with a large red visor cap, on the crown of which was a golden winged skull.

Homura was apparently as surprised to see these men as Hitomi was, as she tilted her head at Inquisitor Kane: "Inquisitor, who are these men?"

"Colonel Raphael Saunders, commanding officer of the 444th Cadian Shock Trooper Regiment, reporting for duty!"

"Regimental Commissar Vladimir Steiner of the 444th Cadian Shock Trooper Regiment, reporting for duty!"

Both of them announced their identity with a booming voice, so loud that Hitomi was sure that the cups and plates on the tea table rattled. She took a glance at Homura, and found the black-haired girl with slacked jaws. Apparently, Homura understood them but she did not truly "understand" them; as in, she could understand the language, but she did not know what they meant. After a glance at Kane, Hitomi decided to wait for the snickering man's explanation.

"Inquisitor?"

"They are the leaders of the Imperial Guard regiment that I requisitioned." The Inquisitor answered, moving toward the kitchen. Hitomi then noticed that, behind the two burly man and the seats, a stack of olive green crates rested against the wall in the corner of the living room. "They may be trusted."

"At ease." Homura said after a small pause, and the two men's stance slacked, though they still remained standing with their head high. "How big is the regiment? How many men are we talking about here?"

"Ma'am!" The Colonel—the one with medals and ribbons on his uniform—answered with a proud stomp, "The 444th is one thousand men strong, equipped with standard shock trooper equipment."

"Which is?"

"Hellguns and heavy weapons, ma'am!"

The conversation left Hitomi in a daze. It appeared that Homura had far more knowledge of these people than she did; understanding and fluently speaking their language was just the beginning. Hitomi sighed and rubbed her face: and there she was, thinking that she was special because she was the "only one" that knew about Kane.

Speaking of whom, what was he doing? Hitomi looked behind the commissar, and saw Kane clumsily making coffee. It drew a chuckle out of her, seeing him fret with spoons too small for his hands and an instant coffee jar lid that would not snap into place.

Hitomi stood up and strolled over to the kitchen. She was subtly being excluded from Homura's conversation because none of them realized that she could not understand the language, and seeing how the Inquisitor was fiddling with delicate cutlery like a bear trying to open a tub of honey, she might be of more use to him than to the rest of the people.

"Let me help you with that." She gently snatched a teaspoon from Kane's oversized hand and dipped it into a cup of steaming liquid.

"I do not require assistance." He grumbled, and his attempts to get the spoon back were half-hearted at best. Frustrated, his shoulder sagged as he grunted, before slapping the lid back onto the jar with a forceful bash and cursed under his breath: "Thrice-damned abomination."

Hitomi chuckled, dropping two cubes of sugar into the cup with a pair of tongs. "You aren't used to doing this, are you?"

"What made you think so?"

"You didn't look like the type that would make coffee for someone else." A sip of the black liquid almost burnt Hitomi's tongue, and it tasted hideous—she was not used to drinking instant coffee.

"Given whose house we are in and what she is doing, it is only appropriate." Kane poured another cup, and covered it with his massive hand when Hitomi gestured with a cube of sugar between her tongs. "I prefer it black."

"You seemed like quite the important person. How can Homura outrank you?" The last cup was almost ready. The conversation by the tea table was dying down, as well; there were only so many things Homura could ask the two strange soldiers, after all, Hitomi thought.

"You shall find out soon enough." Kane placed his cup beside a small pitcher of cream and a saucer of sugar cubes on the tray. "Come, it is about time we rejoin the conversation."

He motioned for the tray, but Hitomi took it with her hands before he could touch it: "I'm better at this than you are."

Both of them walked back to the tea table, and Hitomi set the tray down. Homura gestured for the two to take a seat, which they complied and everyone had a steaming cup of coffee in their hands.

"Inquisitor, where are the Space Marines under your command? Can't they be trusted?"

"The Black Templars are not known for their tolerance, Miss Akemi." Kane sipped the coffee and frowned. He was not the type to drink instant coffee either; Hitomi smiled through her grimace. "What we are discussing here is likely to drive them into a purging frenzy, and Magical Girls will be the first ones in their crosshairs. For now, it is better to send them after the Eldar, and separate them from our business."

"I'll trust your judgment in that, Inquisitor." Homura leaned forward and rested her elbows on her thighs, folding her hands in front of her lips. "I'll be briefing you in High Gothic, which Shizuki Hitomi does not understand. Please translate for her."

"Of course, Miss Akemi." Kane's voice reached Hitomi's ears and echoed in her brain at the same time. The sound her ear received and the voice in her brain were completely different, but somehow she knew that they meant the same, and it irritated her.

"And I would advise you to brace yourselves." Homura spoke in the tongue that the men used. Hitomi found it strange that the translation came a split second later, ringing directly in her mind. She also noticed that there was barely any pain left when Kane spoke to her telepathically; all she had was a tingling feeling, as if someone was tickling her brain.

The feeling disappeared, however, when Homura made the next statement:

"What I am about to tell you all—the truth about Magical Girls, Witches, and this world—is not for the weak of heart."

* * *

><p>"This ain't what ya promised, vermin." She took a bite out of the <em>taiyaki<em>—a fish-shaped snack filled with delicious red bean paste—in her hand. The wind scattered her red locks behind her, and her teal hoodie fluttered behind her.

"Out of all the people, I did not expect _you_ to be the one coming." The white creature known as Kyubey sat beside her on the top of a skyscraper, its white ears not even moving in the wind. She never liked the white rat, but working with it was one of the many necessary evils of being a Magical Girl.

"I know Mami kicked the bucket, but you din't tell me there's another one in town." She bit the body off of her snack, leaving only a small tail in her hand. The baked flour dough melted inside her mouth; her tongue smeared the soft red bean paste all over her palate. "_Taiyaki_ at that shop's always so good!"

"Then seduce the owner of the shop and have him make them for you fresh every day! I can't believe what I'm hearing!" The voice in her head cackled in its usual high-pitched voice, and she frowned. Even though it did say some good things once in a while, that voice had been more of a nuisance as of late.

"Shut up, you." She chucked the small tail into her mouth, and licked her fingers clean of butter and small pieces of baked dough, before shaking the empty paper bag in her hand. This was her last piece of snack with her; she would need to go out and get more before she would go hungry again, and that would not be long given how her body had changed.

"Well, she was willing to contract, and you know I cannot refuse a contract." Kyubey took a flick to the forehead as she stood up. The wind on top of the skyscraper was fierce enough that she shuddered from it; but then again, she was only wearing a blue-and-white striped tank top inside her hoodie, a pair of blue denim daisy dukes, and a pair of heeled leather boots up to the middle of her shin. Even though—comparatively speaking—she was not well-endowed, her fashion was enough to earn a lot of attention on the streets.

"That ain't our deal, remember?" She spat; her spittle flew into Kyubey's face, who promptly wiped it off with its forepaw and a sigh. "This town is mine, and mine alone."

"That's right! The town's ours, and all the hot guys in town are ours, too! We will never share! Never!" The little vermin inside her head squealed in delight, and she squashed it with a boot stomp. Some peace and quiet would be nice once in a while.

"So, given our situation, what are you going to do?"

"There's only one thing _to do_." A vicious smile hung around her lips as she stretched her arm out and curled her hand into a fist. "Beat the livin' daylights out of that lil' piece o' shit, of course."

"My, my. This is why I don't like working with you, Sakura Kyouko."

That comment earned Kyubey a boot to the head as Kyouko stabbed her heel into the white creature: "Shut up and go find that numb-nuts newbie. Then I'm gonna teach her the consequences of takin' ma food."

* * *

><p>There was much to do in the days that followed Sayaka's contract for Homura. First, Kane had reported some disturbing news regarding the Eldar. Their camps were destroyed, the majority of their forces annihilated by a daemon that they seem to have slain. Judging from the festering remains of the dead, Kane believed that the culprit was a spawn of Nurgle, and consequently both he and Homura had agreed that the Eldar had somehow purified Mami's Soul Gem, although at a horrible cost.<p>

Homura still found it strange that the loss of a handful of Eldar was considered a devastating blow to their race as a whole. Then again, the Eldar—according to Kane and Him—was on the brink of extinction, and Homura could understand how they wanted to avoid losing anyone at all costs.

Second, the involvement of the Imperial Guard meant that Homura needed to find shelter for them. Fortunately, the number that had dropped onto the planetary surface was not many—including the commanding officers, there were about three squads of Shock Troopers on planet—but eventually she would run out of places to stash them. The abandoned building where Hitomi and Kane first met was a decent place, but it was located too far from the center of the city and Mitakihara High, where everything was taking place. In order to have a quick response to situations that require them, Homura would have to find somewhere closer, and that was more difficult than she thought it would be.

Lastly, and most importantly, Shizuki Hitomi was revealed the truth and she was emotionally unstable to say the best. Homura had to admit that she was strong; any lesser human's sanity would have buckled and broke after seeing what she saw and hearing what she heard. There was the element of skepticism helping her stay sane, of course; the truth was unbelievable, after all. But her strength of character—the calm resolution after the revelation and the burning flame in her eyes that Homura saw—was enough to earn her trust for now.

"We never interacted with her in any significant way." Homura nodded at His assessment. If only she could have known it earlier, she could have ended the cycles and saved everyone sooner.

"One thing that I have learned over the years is that regret is counter-productive." He was right, as He always had been; Homura closed her eyes with a wry smile. "What we should do is…"

"…get up where we fell and look forward."

He was pleased: "That's right. We must look forward and carry on."

"This is the place." Homura turned and faced the storefront. It was a fast-food restaurant, one that Madoka and her friends frequented. There must be a reason behind Madoka's request for a meeting here, Homura mused as she glanced up at the sign.

"She is not here yet." He noted the obvious.

"What could she want?" Homura mused. Madoka was a timid girl; it was unlike her to take proactive action, unless something was going wrong. Given that Homura had worked hard to maintain an emotional distance from Madoka, the invitation seemed even stranger.

"Maybe she is concerned about Miki Sayaka." Homura let out a sigh as He remarked. Even though Madoka was not aware, Sayaka had been beyond salvation ever since the moment she contracted with that vile vermin. "You only think that way because you had seen the outcomes."

"Would you do what you did if you knew how it was going to turn out?"

He was silent for a couple of minutes. "I do not know. But that is beside the point; what was done was done. Regret does us no good, remember?"

"Yes." Homura closed her eyes and smiled at the small victory, "maybe she should know that Sayaka is already a lost cause."

"You and I both know that she would not be persuaded easily."

"There is no harm in trying."

"Other than hurting her further, no."

His reply stuck a bone in Homura's throat. Truth could be a cruel mistress. She still remembered how much it hurt when she first learned the truth; the recent debrief with Hitomi was a painful reminder of that very experience. If she could, Homura would shield Madoka from it forever; but she had failed all her attempts up until now.

"So, you are suggesting that we be economical with the truth." Homura seethed in her mind. She leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed in front of her chest, "That is what the rat bastard did. What difference is there between us and it, if we do the same?"

"The difference is that we have no malicious intent." He responded, "It claims that it constructed this scheme to delay the universe's heat death, but we both know it to be a lie."

At least that little bit was true; Homura grunted. In past iterations, that white rat had always claimed that it never lied; but after knowing who employed its services, Homura could no longer believe that.

"You wish to lessen her suffering, do you not?" He asked a rhetorical question, "Keep that goal in your sight, and you would know what to do."

"Yes, but I want her to trust me more than that." Homura countered and He fell silent. "It will still hurt when she can't save Miki Sayaka, but if I lied to her about it, I would also lose her trust, and we absolutely cannot let that happen."

"You have not forgotten that you have already lied to her, have you?" Her eyes widened at the reminder, "You did conceal the fact that Tomoe Mami is still alive."

"That's right. I think preventing Madoka from contracting outweighs whatever consequence I will incur later, and I'm prepared to accept them."

"Indeed you are," He continued, "and it remains your choice whether or not you should lie to her about Sayaka's condition. I am merely offering suggestions and reiterating facts."

"Sure you are." Homura smiled bitterly. He was observant and intelligent; so observant and intelligent, in fact, that he could spot the hypocrisy in her thoughts and point them out to her, much to her embarrassment.

Still, the issue remained. Should she lie to Madoka about Sayaka or not?

"We do not yet know what Madoka wishes to discuss."

"But we will find out in a few moments." Homura had spotted the familiar figure with twin pigtails slowly approaching the entrance to the restaurant.

* * *

><p>Madoka saw Homura waiting for her at the door and winced.<p>

The chat with Sayaka during school did not go as well as she hoped. Even though Sayaka reassured her that she was "feeling great," Madoka found it hard to believe her words. Outside of Sayaka's parents, perhaps Madoka was the only person that knew Sayaka better than she did herself, being friends with her since elementary school. Sayaka liked to hide her feelings and pretend to be strong; it would not surprise Madoka that it was the case this time around.

She purposefully averted eye contact with Homura as they ordered their snacks. It would be too easy for Homura to read her through her eyes. What would she think? Repeatedly, time and time again, Homura had warned here against becoming a Magical Girl. Madoka knew that Homura was concerned for her life: she did not wish the burden of having to fight Witches for her entire life on Madoka, and it was fairly obvious that Homura herself had gone through Hell and back. But she simply could not sit on the sidelines and idly watch as Sayaka fight the Witches alone.

They took their seats at an empty table where there were not many people around. Homura ordered a cup of steaming coffee, while Madoka had some nuggets, a bunch of fries, and a small soft drink. She kept her head bowed and looking at the small packet of fries in her tray, still avoiding eye contact with the black-haired girl.

How should she speak to Homura? How should she phrase her request? How should she persuade Homura to help her? Madoka's thoughts were a frazzled mess, buzzing around her brain like a nest of hornets. The fact was that she could even forget to breathe around Homura; there was certainly something about her that made Madoka lose her pace and her composure.

"So, what are you here to discuss?" Homura broke the ice as she twisted the lid on her cup of coffee, opening it with a snap. The question hit Madoka by surprise, who immediately snapped her head up with a small gasp.

Time was up. "Um, I'm… about Sayaka-chan…" Keep it together, me! Madoka stammered as she tried desperately to organize her mess of thoughts into coherent sentences. Her eyes met Homura's for the first time as the black-haired girl gave her a quizzical stare: "Um, it's really easy for her to believe what she wants to, and she gets really stubborn at times, and she fights with others really easily, but… but she's a nice person! She's really nice to everyone, and she'll go to any length to help someone in need, so…"

"That is a fatal trait for a Magical Girl." Homura's inhuman calmness stopped Madoka's thoughts dead in her tracks.

"… Why is that?" Madoka did not understand. Magical Girls were champions of justice and hope, were they not? They fought Witches because they wanted to save lives, did they not? How could Homura be so fatalistic about everything?

"Excessive kindness leads to weakness." Homura continued with her flat voice. The lack of emotions in her voice almost disgusted Madoka. "Incautious courage leads to recklessness, and there is zero reward to dedication of any kind. One cannot become a Magical Girl without understanding these principles. And that was how Tomoe Mami lost her life."

How dare she mention Miss Mami again! How dare she say that Miss Mami was wrong to have dedicated her life to helping others! Madoka slammed her hands on the table, spilling some coffee from Homura's cup: "Stop saying that!"

The scream would have silenced the entire restaurant if it were filled with people and focus all attention on Madoka. Luckily for her, the restaurant was largely empty. Madoka took in several deep breaths to calm her anger, and continued in a much lower voice: "Sayaka-chan might be saying that she's fine, but I know her better; when I think about the things that happened to Miss Mami, and when I think that those horrible things may happen to Sayaka-chan, I… I don't know what I'm going to do if that happens."

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" Homura's expressions did not change. Madoka nodded as she saw Homura pour a packet of sugar into her coffee. Things were happening so quickly and branching into directions that Madoka had least expected, that it was getting increasingly difficult for her to cope with them all.

"I realize that, as a normal human, I can't really do much for her anymore." Against the Witches and other Magical Girls, Madoka was but another normal human, food to the Witches and obstacle to the enemy. The painful realization came only after she had almost died at the hands of a Witch; it made her understand just how powerless she truly was. "So, I want to ask you… Could you please be friends with her? Could you not fight with her like you have fought with Miss Mami? Could you please help her when she's in need? Wouldn't it be safer if everyone fought the Witches together?"

Homura's hand stopped as she tried to take a sip of the coffee. She slowly set the cup down, and stared into Madoka's pleading eyes. Madoka tried to read a hint of agreement from Homura; she tried to capture anything that would suggest Homura's consent: a twitch of a muscle, a shift in her eyes, a change in her posture, anything at all, but she failed to find any.

Finally, Homura's eyes closed as she lowered her head: "Can you promise me that you will stay out of this Magical Girl business from now on?"

It was a promise that Madoka simply could not make. Her best friends were both involved; Sayaka was a Magical Girl, and Hitomi had already gotten herself involved by stalking them and by becoming a target for the Witches. She could never make that promise to Homura, knowing that both her friends were in danger from the Witches.

"I thought not." Homura saw through Madoka the moment she averted her eyes. "I must be straightforward with you, then. You deserve to know."

"… What is it?"

"Sayaka's contract was a mistake. She should never have contracted." Madoka knew Homura was going to say that. The relationship between Homura and Sayaka was chilled at best; ever since Miss Mami's… incident, Sayaka had always been hostile toward Homura, especially since Homura took that Grief Seed. Homura would never approve of Sayaka's contracting.

"To be honest, it was my mistake as well, having neglected to monitor her actions." That statement, however, was surprising. How could Homura blame herself for Sayaka's contract? It was Sayaka's choice to go through with becoming a Magical Girl; how could Homura be responsible for any of it? Madoka tilted her head as she stared at Homura taking a sip of coffee.

"But now that I have taken responsibility for her fault, I must tell you that it is a mistake that even I cannot repair." Homura continued, knowing that she had Madoka's undivided attention. "To try and fix this mistake as she is right now would be no different from trying to bring someone back from the grave."

Madoka cringed at the simile. Sayaka was not dead yet! Sayaka was still fighting for everyone! Why would Homura use such a morbid example to compare to Sayaka's situation?

"Since she has already become a Magical Girl, there's no hope for salvation. The Magical Girl contract forces one to give up everything in exchange for a wish." Homura concluded.

"So, you've given up, as well?" That would explain her fatalistic way of thinking; Madoka closed her eyes. Homura must have been through a lot of pain and loss to have evolved this way of thinking; Madoka was sure of it. "You've given up on yourself and on the other girls? You've given up on everything?"

"Yes." Homura's reply was not surprising. What was surprising to Madoka, though, was what followed that: "I won't excuse myself by saying that I shall try to atone. I must keep fighting, regardless of what sins I commit in order to do so."

There it was. Madoka's eyelids drooped as her body slumped into the seat. Homura had refused her request of helping Sayaka; there was nothing else that Madoka could do for Sayaka any more, except by becoming a Magical Girl herself.

But was she prepared to do that? Madoka did not know. Setting aside the fact that she had no idea what her wish was going to be, she was frightened at the prospect of dying at the hand of some Witch. Miss Mami died fighting for everyone else, and what good did that do her? Only Madoka, Sayaka and Homura would remember her; no one else mourned her, no one else tried to see if she was okay.

That was even the best of outcomes, Madoka shuddered. If she, as a Magical Girl, died inside a Witch's barrier, it would break her parents' hearts. Madoka could see them running through the streets, calling her name, looking for any clue of where she went and, failing to find any, cry through the night. Madoka could imagine her little brother, barely even knowing how to speak, flailing around and wailing at her picture, asking her parents where his sister went, and…

She could not. She would not. It was just like Homura said; becoming a Magical Girl would require her to discard everything she ever cared about. No, that would not be acceptable; Madoka decided. Sayaka was not in mortal danger just yet; Madoka could always contract when the situation called for it.

"It seemed like I've wasted your time. I'm sorry." Homura apologized before leaving the restaurant.

"No, Homura… You haven't wasted my time at all." Madoka whispered to herself, a drop of tear rolling out of the corner of her eye.

"Thank you."

* * *

><p>Azrael could no longer control his limbs. He lay sprawled out on the forest floor with a soft bed of fallen leaves and damp soil under him, his blank eyes staring up into the crown of the forest. Far Seer Kirahla sat beside him with crossed legs, as if meditating.<p>

The war host was gone. The daemon's attack was far too devastating, and all but the two of them survived. The loss was far more severe than that, however; the Waystone for every single dead was destroyed when the daemon feasted on them. Those warriors were lost to the Eldar forever.

Azrael could never bring himself to call the attack "a surprise". The Far Seer had already seen the threads of fate; surely she had seen the consequences of bringing a tainted "waystone" from an unknown source and mating it with wraithbone. This must all be part of Kirahla's plan; even the damning of his own soul by using his Waystone to capture that filthy _mon-keigh's_ soul must be the result of her machinations.

She must be mad, Azrael screamed in his mind. What outcome could possibly justify the sacrifice of dozens of Eldar souls? What horrid, bleak visions of the future was the Far Seer hoping to avoid? What use was a _mon-keigh_ soul to them?

If only he could move, he would have slit her throat and start to exterminate every single _mon-keigh_ vermin in this wretched city. But alas, even moving a finger was beyond his capabilities at the moment: the _mon-keigh_ rodent inside his Waystone was wrestling him for control of his body.

He dreamt as his mind retreated into its mortal shell. He was standing on a knoll of grass and shrubs, and that _mon-keigh_ girl—Mami was its name, he somehow remembered—stood barely fifty yards in front of him, dressed in its distasteful attire as usual. The sky was but an endless black void, with pinholes of light shimmering through like stars.

"This is my body, bitch! MINE!" He declared and pulled out his long rifle. Mami curtsied, dropping half a dozen muskets at her feet. That smile on its face—that confident and almost cocky smirk—greatly aggravated Azrael. He swiftly shouldered his rifle and fired a shot. The bullet screamed for the _mon-keigh's_ worthless life as it soared in the modulating laser beam. Like water, his enemy replied with a shot of its own. Miraculously, the shots collided in mid-air; both were deflected off their intended trajectory, Azrael's shot grazing Mami's cheek, while Mami's shot nicking Azrael's ear.

How dare it boast its inferior marksmanship in front of him! Azrael quickly melded into the shadows of the void. The disrespect that _mon-keigh_ showed him was infuriating, indeed; he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself. But just as he did that, Mami pulled a pair of muskets from the ground and fired both at him.

Both balls were on target. Azrael had to tuck himself into a ball and roll on the ground; even then, the musket balls only missed by barely an inch. Without giving Azrael the time to think and adjust, Mami kept shooting, sending shot after shot of accurate fire at him and forcing him to displace continuously.

How could it know where he was?

"Do you not get it, Pathfinder?" The Far Seer's voice somehow echoed inside the void, and Mami's smile grew wider. "Do you not realize that she had already become part of you, as you have already partly melded with her?"

"Sacrilege!" For an Eldar to fuse with a _mon-keigh_ soul, it was the ultimate insult to him. To taint his pure noble soul with something as vulgar, vicious, and vile as a _mon-keigh _was a fate worse than death. "You lie, wench!"

"See for yourself." The Far Seer sighed. There was no time for him to consider; the shots from his enemy became like a storm of hail, leaving him barely any place to evade them. But even when he was hard pressed and his exhaustion was quickly catching up to him, his body and limbs moved just quick enough for the shot to miss by a hair.

"There is no point for you to fight each other." The musket muzzle drooped as Mami ceased fire. Azrael came out of a flurry of movements rolling, his rifle already in hand when he stood up. Another violet beam propelled a bullet, and Azrael watched with wide eyes as the beam itself bent and the bullet scraped Mami's face. "As facets of oneself fights with each other to no fruitful resolution, so shall you two engage in eternal combat if you insist."

"You planned all this from the very beginning, haven't you, wench!" Azrael howled at the void. This was not what he expected; without another Waystone, he would be stuck with this filthy _mon-keigh's _soul inside his body.

"For the survival of our species, one has to make sacrifices."

"Tell me, then! What have you seen?"

"The visions were not for unprepared minds."

"To the Warp with it! To the Warp with your cryptic warnings! If you are going to rope me into this, wench, I must know!"

"Very well, then." The Far Seer sighed, and Mami charged into Azrael at blinding speed in a beam of golden light. "But do not say that I did not warn you."

And Azrael woke up as his body stopped convulsing. His Waystone briefly let out a flash of golden brilliance before dimming down again. He took a few deep breaths to calm his heart; putting his hands on his heaving chest, he could not help but notice that they were trembling and unnaturally cold.

It was because of the visions, he remembered; wiping the sweats off of his forehead, Azrael turned his eyes toward the Far Seer, who was wearing a victorious smile and looking at him through half-opened eyes.

What anger or resentment he had toward the Far Seer was mostly gone. The very fact that the _mon-keigh_ girl resided in his Waystone used to be intolerable; however, for his species' continued survival, Azrael knew that he must bear this mark of shame until the end. The visions had shown him the possibilities. The visions showed him the necessity of his sacrifice. And the Far Seer was correct; they were not meant for mortal eyes.

"I hope we will get along better with each other, now that we understand each other better." The Far Seer spoke deliberately, her voice wispy like the mist on the forest floor.

"I don't make promises I can't keep" was all Azrael said before he moved to lean against a tree. His face was too pale even by Eldar standards, with not the slightest shade of healthy red on it. The wind at night made his hands and body quiver even harder, and his teeth clattered against each other.

"I will do my best, provided you remember your promise, Miss Kirahla." Mami responded inside Azrael's brain, and the Far Seer's smile grew wider.

"We have eluded the _mon-keigh_ Space Marines' pursuit so far, but there's still much work to be done." She said as she lay down on the forest floor with her arms under her head, "Rest well, both of you. The road ahead would certainly be long and arduous, but we must carry on, for all our sakes."

"So, why don't you tell me a little about yourself, Pathfinder?" Mami's sweet voice echoed inside Azrael's head as he closed his eyes. His journey would be even more difficult than the Far Seer would have anticipated, and it had already started.

He dragged out his sigh. It would be a long night, indeed.

* * *

><p>The familiar escaped. It skittered along the wall of the alley and dashed away.<p>

Madoka's mouth gaped at what the crimson-clad Magical Girl did. It was unthinkable: an immature familiar could still kill people and feed on them to grow, and as the savior of the masses and the embodiment of justice a Magical Girl should never allow them to escape.

But the Magical Girl in front of her eyes defied that belief. She was certainly not well-endowed as Mami was, but somehow she exuberated an aura that had Madoka involuntarily blush. A red sleeveless coat with a long pair of sparrow tails was wrapped around her lithe body, matching her crimson ponytail and blood-colored irises. Her knee-high boots, too, was colored blood red, with white trims down the center and around the rim of each boot. A long bronze spear with a large arrow head rested on the back of her neck with her hand on each side. Her smile was one that radiated overwhelming confidence, and she was nibbling on a chocolate biscuit stick.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sayaka demanded. Instinctively Madoka shivered from her booming voice; Sayaka had always been loud, but since when could her volume be intimidating?

"Well, what the hell does it look like, gal?" The redhead tilted her head to the side and her eyelids drooped. Her accent was peculiar to Madoka; she was definitely not local.

"It got away!"

"Don't get yer panties in a bunch." The redhead lowered her head and sighed. "It's just a familiar."

"But innocent people are getting killed?"

"Why the fuck should I care?"

Sayaka's eyes widened at the response, and her lips quivered. "What did you just say?"

"Ya deaf or sumthin'?" Madoka could not believe what she was hearing. "Why the hell ya killin' familiars?"

"Because innocent people could die from it!"

"Listen, dumbass." The insults never stopped, and Madoka could tell Sayaka's rage was about to erupt. It was not just the insults; Madoka was certain that the redhead's callous disregard of innocent lives was a major reason. "We ain't gonna get nothin' from killin' them familiars, and who the hell work without rewards, anyway? Why not let it grow to a Witch then pop it?"

"You're willing to sacrifice lives for your benefit?"

"It's like the food chain. Witches eat them weaklings, and we eat them Witches. It's called 'survival of the fittest', ya dig? Ain't like them weaklings have much better uses than that, ya know?"

That was the last straw. Before Madoka could restrain Sayaka, the blue-haired knight let out a furious war-cry and charged forward, her cutlass in hand. With a terrifying clash of metal, the cutlass met the bronze shaft of the spear, sending brilliant sparks splattering around them.

Sayaka could smell the redhead. She radiated the aroma of chocolate, sweet bean paste, and butter, as if she just emerged from a bakery kitchen. It was revolting to her, but her stomach grumbled in response.

The redhead's cocky smile did not disappear, however, as she held Sayaka in place with her spear. Metal creaked and screamed as Sayaka applied even more force with her cutlass, but the stalemate continued.

"Listen carefully, noob," Sayaka winced at the redhead's breath, which reeked of cream and sugar, "If ya came into the biz to cosplay as some superhero swoopin' in t' save them weaklings fer fun, ya can beat it. Dis whole Witch hunt ain't fun an' games, ya know. Word ta the wise, it'll get ya killed."

"Shut the hell up!" Sayaka gritted her teeth. Although the redhead looked frail and unassuming, Sayaka failed to make any sort of headway in this deadlock. "I don't need lectures from the likes of you!"

"Show some respect to yer seniors, ya imbecile." The redhead quipped, not even breaking a sweat from the standoff. With a push, she broke the stalemate, and Sayaka borrowed the force of the push to hop backwards a few steps. "I know better than you do. I done this fer a long time."

"Shut up!" Sayaka charged again. The redhead, however, slammed the tip of her spear into the ground. Borrowing the firm shaft of the spear, she deftly dodged Sayaka's charge like a pole dancer. Then, with some help from the spear shaft, she wrapped her legs tightly around Sayaka's head.

"Sayaka!" Madoka yelled from the sidelines. There was not much she could do but to worry; getting in between them as a normal human would do no good.

The redhead let go of the spear shaft and curled her body up, sitting on Sayaka's shoulder. As the blue-haired dame struggled against her stranglehold, she saw the redhead's face an inch in front of hers, the wicked smile never vanishing: "Told ya so, nubcake!"

Madoka was amazed at the redhead Magical Girl's flexibility, as she uncurled her body and, using her hands as support, performed a somersault with Sayaka still in tow. It must not have been pleasant: Sayaka screamed in pain as she was pulled up by the neck, and just as she reached the highest point, the redhead released her hold, hurling Sayaka's body at Madoka like rock from a catapult. With a grunt, Sayaka landed by Madoka's side on her right arm, sliding about a foot behind.

"Sayaka! Are you okay?" Madoka immediately tended to her friend. The redhead, on the other hand, finished nibbling her biscuit stick in the middle of her acrobatics. Casually, she pulled her spear out from the ground with her left hand. Her right hand took out a red box of biscuit sticks; with a tap and a shake, a biscuit stick popped its head out, onto which she bit as if she were smoking a cigarette.

"Ya know, if ya ain't got the chops, ya ain't got no rights ta demand anythin', ya dig?" She rested her spear on her shoulder again and relaxed her stance, her arrogant smile never vanishing. "I ain't gonna say this another time. This is _my_ town. Scram while ya have the chance…"

"Who said… I'm done with you?" Sayaka slowly crawled up. She had bloody scratches on her exposed shoulder, and her right arm looked a little limp. With the redhead watching, she slowly trotted to the side of the alley, and with a scream she slammed her shoulder back in place before taking up her sword again.

"Ya stubborn lil bitch." The smile finally disappeared from the redhead's face. Sayaka rolled her head around a little, and Madoka could hear the cracks from her neck. "Why don't ya beat it already?"

"Because the people in this town are mine to protect!" Sayaka declared, pointing her sword at the redhead, "And I'm not going to let you sacrifice them for your benefit!"

"Then I guess I'll hafta beat that naïveté outta ya!" Without even striking a stance, the redhead charged with lightning speed at Sayaka. Sayaka parried her charge with a shower of sparks and a loud screech of metal; she could only keep parrying the redhead's spear thrusts, and even that was a challenge. Finally, after about five parries, Sayaka was once again relieved of her sword as the redhead made an upward slash with her sword. And then, she was caught in the side when the redhead swung her spear shaft around like a staff without a moment's pause. Madoka was amazed that the staff could actually separate into segments chained together; the redhead wrapped the snake-like weapon around Sayaka's staggered body like a rope, and with a leap dragged her into mid-air. Then, with a whip, she tossed Sayaka's body to the ground.

Sayaka crashed beside Madoka. Blood came trickling from the scratches on her arms, her shoulders and her forehead, as she lay face down and completely still on the ground.

"That'll cool yer head a lil."

"No! Sayaka!" Tears rolled around in Madoka's eyes. Sayaka was completely being dominated; the redhead's speed and agility was simply too much for an inexperienced Sayaka. "Stop beating her like this!"

"She's out cold now." The redhead stated, her spear back to resting on her shoulder and her back toward Sayaka, "That oughta teach her a lesson—"

"Shut up…!"

Madoka was amazed that Sayaka could still crawl up. That spear hit was solid; she must have broken a couple of ribs at the very least, and the shoulder tackle should have knocked her out for a couple of minutes. However unsteady she may seem, the fact that Sayaka was standing spoke volumes about her resilience.

"How the fuck…" The biscuit stick almost fell out of the redhead's mouth as she turned around.

"Sayaka's wish is related to healing." Kyubey added, and both Madoka and the redhead stared at it. "Her powers are directly related to healing. She could take a lot more punishment than normal people."

"Why didn't ya tell me this earlier, vermin?" With a frustrated sigh, the redhead once again held her spear in one hand.

"You didn't ask." Kyubey answered with a shrug in its voice. Sayaka had already gathered herself. Even though there was blood everywhere, and her gait was unsteady, she maintained a tight grip on her sword and stared at the redhead with intense hostility.

"Well, if she wouldn't stay down after a beatin', I guess I oughta just kill her instead!" With an almost theatrical flourish, the redhead Magical Girl leaped high into the air and crashed down at Sayaka.

"I can't lose! Not to you!" With a clumsy jump, Sayaka barely evaded the rock-shattering slam. And then, with a staggered parry, she was knocked back several feet again. The redhead was not satisfied. With another charge, she closed the distance and went for the kill. Even in her battered state, Sayaka still sought to take advantage of her opponent, as she sidestepped the charge and chopped with her cutlass.

The chop only nicked a few strands of hair off of her ponytail. Even so, she had felt the strike; the redhead skidded to a halt, and with a howl of rage she leaped again. This time, Sayaka was caught in the shockwave of the crash; bits of rock and stone flew with her as she was sent tumbling to Madoka.

"Kyubey… how do I stop them? How do I stop them from fighting?" Madoka's knees gave as Sayaka's bloodied and broken body came to a stop in front of her. A few yards away, the redhead walked with her body swaggering like a fashion model toward Madoka, a deadly smirk on her face. "If they keep fighting like this, Sayaka'll die!"

"Only a Magical Girl can stop them from getting at each other." Kyubey responded. "The only way to stop them now is for you to contract, Madoka! Think of a wish!"

Madoka's eyes widened. There was no way that she could give up on Sayaka like Homura had said. There was no way that she could let her friend die again like she did to Mami. All she needed was a wish, and…

"That won't be necessary."

Just as the redhead raised her spear and got ready to give Sayaka her _coup de grace_, a familiar voice rang through the alley. Homura had appeared out of nowhere; her long black hair fluttered as she stood in front of Madoka, Sayaka's quivering body lying at her feet.

The redhead stopped. Homura had pointed a fairly large handgun with a sickle magazine at her head: "Who the hell are you?"

"Break this off now, both of you." Homura's icy expression did not change when she flicked her torrent of pure black hair. "Do not force me to terminate you both."

"… You're welcome… to try…!" Sayaka tried to stand up. Madoka watched in amazement as, somehow, Homura had already wrapped her left arm around Sayaka's arm in a choke hold, while her right hand still pointed the gun at the redhead's forehead.

"Homura, don't kill her!" Madoka pleaded as Sayaka flailed with all her might against the stranglehold.

It was not enough; in mere seconds, her body went limp and her struggles stopped. Homura promptly released Sayaka from her hold, letting her slump to the ground: "She should be sleeping for a while."

The redhead smiled again: "Whose side are you on, exactly?"

"I'm on the side of reason and caution." Homura enunciated each word clearly, "If you will not stand down, I will beat some sense into you."

"As if I…!"

Madoka did not shield her ears in time as Homura fired. The loud shot made her ears rang and she winced. The redhead, however, froze; the bullet missed her by barely an inch, and she could feel the heat from the round screaming by her cheek.

"I will not repeat myself, Sakura Kyouko."

The name drop seemed to amaze Kyouko even more. "We met somewhere before?"

Kyouko was not the only one that was amazed, however. Madoka had seen that name before in Mami's diaries; Mami trained Kyouko to be a Magical Girl, and then there was a scuffle that broke out between them, and Kyouko left after beating Mami in a duel. She must have come back because she got news of Mami's fate. Madoka's thought simmered; she was not a bit similar to how Mami had described her—a passionate, caring, and loving girl with a big appetite. Well, judging from how she had kept nibbling on biscuit sticks, the "big appetite" part certainly had not changed.

Just what could have broken her into such a selfish person? Madoka wondered.

"I wonder about that."

Kyouko lowered her spear, and with a sigh, transformed back into her civilian clothes. Madoka let out a breath of relief; that probably meant that she was no longer intent on killing Sayaka. She pulled another biscuit stick out of the box like a cigarette: "I ain't gonna fight with someone when I ain't got no clue about her, but she knows all about lil ol' me."

"Wise decision." As Homura replied, Madoka found Hitomi running toward both of them with all her speed with a first-aid kit in hand. Somehow, though, it did not feel right; Madoka was all but certain that there was another person beside Hitomi, but none of her normal five senses could confirm her intuition. It must have been paranoia, Madoka decided as she turned her attention back to the conversation; no one could possibly stay hidden in plain sight, after all.

"I'll be seein' y'all, I guess." With a wave, Kyouko disappeared from the alley, and Madoka could finally turn her attention to Hitomi.

"Hitomi…" She was not sure what to think. Why would Hitomi still be willingly involved with them after what had happened? Did she not think that they had betrayed her? Did she not know that it was dangerous?

"I'm going to patch her up first, all right?" Hitomi did not smile. Pulling out a roll of bandages and a bottle of alcohol, she started working on Sayaka's numerous scrapes and bruises. "We should talk about our problems later."

"Thanks, Hitomi-chan…"

"Don't thank me. Thank her."

Hitomi referred to Homura, who stood with her back turned toward Madoka. Homura must have been angry at her, Madoka thought; even after the numerous warnings that she gave her, even after seeing Mami's gruesome death, Madoka still could not help but stick her nose into this entire Magical Girl business.

"Thank you for saving her…" Madoka almost whispered. She had not the courage to speak up.

"Just how many times must I warn you not to get involved? Just how big of an idiot are you, Kaname Madoka?" Madoka winced at the words. It was foolish of her to try and intervene between two Magical Girls. It was foolish of her to try and go on Witch hunts with Sayaka. It was foolish of her to not heed Homura's warning. But she only did all that because she cared. She wanted Sayaka to be safe. She wanted to be there to support her. She wanted to lend courage to Sayaka as Sayaka risked her life.

"But I…!" Madoka had to swallow the rest of her sentence when Homura tilted her head and sent a glare at her, a glare that almost froze all the blood in Madoka's veins. With a long sigh, Homura slid her handgun into the shield and transformed back.

"I will deal with idiots by any means necessary."

What did she mean by "selecting her method"? Madoka shuddered at the thought. What kinds of methods was she talking about? Would she resort to violence against Sayaka to prevent Madoka from getting involved?

Why would she do this?

Madoka sniffled and sobbed at Homura's back.

* * *

><p>Sergeant Dividus impatiently chomped down on his rations as he moved with his squad. It had been a couple of days since they found the site of the Eldar massacre with the Inquisitor. It was a grisly sight, to be sure, and his helmet registered a stench most foul while they were there, but it was nothing he had not seen before.<p>

They had been tracking the Eldar ever since. There were apparently only two Xeno targets left alive, and they had laid tracks all over the forest. Eldar, by his experience, were incredibly dangerous opponents, combining agility, techno-heresy, and their foul psychic arts into a lethal package. What the Inquisitor speculated—that the massacre was caused by a daemon—was an even more chilling revelation. Though it had apparently been slain, the presence of a daemon on a psyker-infested planet could only mean that the power of Chaos had taken root. The planet's population could already have been possessed to a certain degree; amongst planets inside a Warp Storm, there were no lack of precedents.

Dividus was not concerned with such trivial matters. It mattered not, to him, how many mad cultists or Warp-spawned abominations he had to slay; all he ever wanted was to cut a swath of glorious destruction through the enemies of Man. What mattered to him, however, was the strict orders from the Inquisitor that native humans were not to be harmed except under extraneous circumstances.

"Dividus." Iohannes spoke through the squad vox channel as the squad came to the end of Eldar tracks. "Do you not find it strange that the Xenos had left tracks for us?"

The question shifted his mind to the mission at hand. It was, indeed, strange. Small packs of Eldar were extremely hard to track even with the tactical data provided by the _Invicta_'s sensors; the last time they tracked the Eldar a couple of decades ago, it was only with the power of an ancient sensor array on planet that they could find their war camp. "Yes, it is, Brother. What do you think?"

"I think they are playing with us, leading us to where they want us to go." Sullivus chipped in on the conversation as he directed the neophytes in search of more Eldar tracks. "I think they are trying to divert us from their true destination."

"Most insidious." Dividus grunted. This was not a good sign. If Sullivus's suspicions were true, they would have lost a couple of days already, and finding them would very well be impossible.

"That would be the obvious motive." Iohannes paused, "But we cannot hope to understand the Xeno's way of thinking, and especially the Eldar."

"It's what I would do." Sullivus replied. "They are outnumbered and outgunned. Then again, their cowardice had them tuck their tails between their limbs."

"The Eldar is only one of our concerns." Dividus found his brothers' speculation about the Eldar's intent trite. Xenos served only two purposes: to be a tool used to exterminate other Xenos, or to be exterminated themselves. "I am more concerned about the Inquisitor."

"What is on your mind?" Iohannes seemed puzzled.

"He spends the majority of the time inside the city, operating with the Imperial Guard and away from us." Dividus continued. He could tell that the entire squad had stopped to listen to him intently. "And he had left us outside the city to search for two elusive Xenos."

"We are too conspicuous inside the city." Iohannes noted, and Dividus agreed; there was no way that they would give up their sacred armor and weapons. Even if they did, their statures and implants would still make them easily recognizable amongst the populace. "He wanted to continue to evaluate the situation before communications with Sector command are restored."

"Sire, may I speak?" Torvus asked through vox, and Dividus gave him a verbal approval. The neophyte's growth was heartening to him, and Dividus imparted knowledge and experience to him at every opportunity. "Although the Inquisitor had no duties to report to us what information he had gathered, would it not be beneficial for the operation if he had shared it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Please forgive me for my suspicions," the neophyte continued with a break, "but it is clear that the Inquisitor does not wish to involve us in the events happening inside the city."

He was right, Dividus instinctively decided. Although Iohannes had a point, the fact that they were conspicuous inside the city did not prevent the Inquisitor from sharing information with them. Moreover, this entire operation to "hunt for the Eldar" was starting to feel like a wild-goose chase to Dividus; the tracks were almost impossible to identify, and sometimes they simply ran circles inside the forest, led by different tracks. It was as if the Eldar were deliberately trying to keep them inside the forest and away from the city.

"We have our orders. We will confirm our suspicions after we carry out our duty." Even though Torvus' opinion stood ground, it was still just an opinion. The Xenos, if left unchecked, could still pose a threat to them and the Inquisitor; after they deal with the Xenos, they could turn their attention to the Inquisitor and the events inside the city. The discussion was over and the search continued.

"Sire, I have found more tracks." Torvus signaled about an hour after they resumed searching, his position blinking as a bright green dot on Dividus' HUD map. "They seem to lead to the city."

Excellent; Dividus sprinted in that direction with his brothers. This may just give them the opportunity to enter the city and start monitoring the Inquisitor up close.

* * *

><p>"Are you feeling all right, Miss Shizuki?" Her piano instructor gently tugged Hitomi back to reality. What she had witnessed barely an hour ago was the first time she had seen two Magical Girls—no, two psykers, according to the Inquisitor—fighting each other. If it were not for Homura's intervention, Sayaka would have lost her life in that fight.<p>

"…Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry about that." No, "losing her life" was probably not the right term given what she knew; she sighed and rubbed her face with her hands. The situation had long since spiraled out of her comfort zone. First, her friends got mixed up in something so dangerous that they could end up with a fate worse than death. Second, some strange humans from outer space landed on the planet without anyone knowing, and the transfer student was in league with them from the beginning. And now, the entire planet was in danger because one of her friends had the potential to destroy it with but a thought?

She shook her head a little. This would not do; she needed to focus her attention on something else, something that was not beyond her ability to comprehend. Music seemed a fine choice given the circumstances: her instructor did say that she was ready to perform in a hall.

Hitomi had always had a finely honed sense for music. She had been studying the piano ever since she was three years old, first under her strict mother's instruction and then under a private instructor since she was nine. She did not like it at first; no child would like to sit in a place and press some keys repeatedly to produce noise. But over the years, she had learned to enjoy the music, and as she got better at it, she had a sense of accomplishment spur her forward.

She flexed her hands and stretched her limbs out a little, before she set her right foot on the pedals and rested her hands on the keyboard. The familiar cold touch of ebony and ivory was reassuring, and she drew in a deep breath.

Notes gushed out of the magnificent instrument in front of her like a torrential storm. Chopin's Etudes were particularly notorious for their finger-twisting masochism, but to Hitomi they seemed the most appropriate given her thoughts and feelings at the time. The triangular piano rumbled and whimpered at her command; all was right with the world…

… until he showed up.

"Oh, Mr. Kamijou Kyousuke, you are here." As the piano instructor's voice rang, the stream of notes came to an abrupt stop as Hitomi slammed the piano on keys which even she did not know. Kamijou? Kamijou Kyousuke? The guy that stole Sayaka's heart? Her heart skipped a beat. Did Homura not warn her about him? Did she not say that getting too close to him was dangerous for all of them, especially Sayaka?

"What's wrong, Miss Shizuki?" This must be a joke fate had played on her; Hitomi decided. Sweat drops rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto the keyboard as her entire body trembled. Why did he _have_ to show up at this time and this place? What did he want? What did her instructor want?

"… N-Nothing, ma'am." She stammered. Her hands were deathly cold when she wiped the sweat off of her forehead. She could feel her blouse sticking to her back; she had never sweated that much in her life.

"Are you sure? You seem unwell."

"… Yes, I'm sure I am fine." Damned lies, Hitomi chuckled bitterly inside. She was anything but fine, the presence of him in the house being the cause of her illness. If left untreated, it could very well be fatal; Hitomi let out a small sigh.

"Well, then, let me introduce you to Mr. Kamijou Kyousuke. He's a talented violin prodigy that I worked with before, and he had just miraculously recovered from a crippling incident." But she knew all that; Hitomi grimaced.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Shizuki." She could hear his smile in his voice. Somehow she knew that a part of her would be lost forever if she greeted him; it was as if she was making a contract with the devil himself. But there had been no turning back ever since he took his first step inside this room; there had been no turning back for her ever since her piano instructor worked with him when he was little.

Hitomi relented. If there was no other course of action, all she could do then was to embrace her only choice and hope for a good outcome. Her body rejected her decision, however; her legs would not stop quivering as she stood up.

She quickly turned around and faced Kyousuke, and the sight of him almost made her stumble. He was _charming_ in his school uniform—a milky white suit with white pants and a pair of impeccable brown loafers. He was a handful of inches taller than Hitomi, his figure a little frail for boys his age, but Hitomi could see how Sayaka fell for him. If she were Sayaka, she would have done the same.

But she was not Sayaka, Hitomi thought. She would never fall prey to his charms; not after Homura's warnings, and certainly not after knowing Sayaka's feelings for him. All she had to do, then, was to greet him courteously and professionally: "It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Kamijou. I had heard a lot about you from Sayaka."

Kyousuke's face twitched a little. "You know each other?" The piano instructor asked with some amazement.

"Common acquaintance." Hitomi forced a smile as she took Kamijou's extended hand. The shake was somehow more assuring to her than it should be, Kamijou's warmth passing to her damp and deathly cold hand through his firm grip.

"Small world, isn't it?" He commented with the warmest smile, and Hitomi's heart skipped a beat again. Even though that smile was most certainly feigned, it could still bring any girl to their knees.

But Hitomi was not just _any_ girl; she reassured herself. She would not go down without a fight: "It sure is."

"Mr. Kamijou would have his first recital after his recovery in a few weeks." The piano instructor said as they released each other from the handshake. "I think you would be perfect to be his accompaniment."

Why did it have to be her of all people? If only she could shoot laser beams from her eyes, the damned teacher would have been a pile of ashes by now; Hitomi exclaimed silently.

"I heard you playing when I stood outside. I think it was wonderful." Hitomi's lips twitched. Did he just hit on her? Did he have the audacity to hit on her while he still had Sayaka's heart? She almost wanted to spit on him, but her manners stopped her.

"Well, if you would like to return the favor, I'll be here listening." Hitomi took a seat on the piano bench.

Kyousuke made a wide grin and proceeded to take out his violin. Expertly adjusting the strings to the right tune, he glanced at Hitomi before closing his eyes. The violin sang with his deliberate movements, the notes coming out like splashes of sunshine.

Before long, Hitomi had completely immersed herself inside Kyousuke's world. He painted a picture for her, a beautiful oil painting with an endless green field, with specks of vibrant colors like stars in the sky, with honey bees dancing to his violin amongst the flowers. She was dressed in a shimmering aquamarine dress, lying on her back on the warm grass and gazing up to the cloudless sky, with her head on his legs and her hands in his…

…until the music stopped and Hitomi opened her eyes. Kyousuke was staring at her the whole time with a knowing smile, and Hitomi's heart sank.

"… Would you excuse me for a moment?" She almost stammered as she stood up, and with shuffled step she walked into the bathroom and locked the door. He knew how much she enjoyed listening to his music. He knew that his music could capture her heart. And she almost fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

Her arms supported her over the sink as she retched. It was the worst feeling in the world, knowing that her friend was head over heels in love with the boy who had almost succeeded in seducing her. She was too weak to resist his temptations; Hitomi decided as she wiped the spittle from the corner of her mouth and her chest tightened.

And, if Homura was correct, she would doom them all: Sayaka, Kyousuke, and herself.


	14. XIII

XIII: There's Definitely Something Wrong with This

Author's Note:

Lady Akemi demands more dakka. And the Imperial Guard obliged.

Please read and review! Donate to the review offering box today!

* * *

><p>Sayaka's Soul Gem shone a brilliant aqua blue, casting long shadows onto the walls. She brought the Grief Seed she acquired earlier close to the Gem. With a flash of azure, the Grief Seed absorbed a cloud of darkness from the Gem, and then the light died down.<p>

"With that, you should be good for a while. You'd better hand that to me, though." Kyubey commented while he stood on Sayaka's desk. He had been staying with Sayaka for a while now, his reasons being that "she is a new member of the Magical Girls and possibly needs guidance".

"Wow, it's all black." Sayaka held the Grief Seed in front of her eyes. The small sphere with a sharp grey metal point certainly had some intricate designs on it like the Soul Gem. It was hard to imagine that this thing was the only remains of a Witch.

"You should give it to me before something happens. If it's used any more, a Witch may hatch." Kyubey sounded a little more zealous than he was. Surely it was because he was concerned about their safety; Sayaka thought as she tossed the Grief Seed to Kyubey. Bouncing it on top of his head a couple of times like a soccer ball, he tossed it into an orifice that just opened up on its back.

"Did you… just eat it?" Sayaka watched him with her mouth agape and her eyes wide.

Kyubey burped a little. "Well, it's part of my job, after all. At least, this way, it is secured. On the other hand, if you want to keep your Soul Gem clean, you must find another Grief Seed."

"Say, is it really that important for me to keep this bright?" Sayaka held up her Soul Gem at the window. Moonlight shone through the gem, casting beautiful refracted azure everywhere in the room.

"It's your source of power. The cleaner it is, the more power you can wield." Kyubey hopped on to Sayaka's shoulder and looked though her Soul Gem, as well. "You know how powerful Sakura Kyouko is, right?"

"Yeah." There was no doubt that Kyouko was strong; Sayaka remembered as her brows tightened into a knot. Even though Kyouko's morality was questionable and her methods vile and evil, there was no denying her strength. Otherwise, Sayaka would not have gotten that thrashing from her the other day.

"Well, she must have had used a lot of Grief Seeds to keep her power strong."

"That doesn't mean she could feed people to familiars!" The other thing about which Sayaka was certain was that Kyouko must be stopped if she planned on feeding more people to the Witches. Innocent lives should not be endangered simply because a Magical Girl wanted more power.

"The Prince of Pleasure is known for its excesses." The voice spat in Sayaka's head.

"The Prince of Pleasure?" Sayaka raised a single brow; it sure was a strange world.

"I could smell his foul stench from the girl." The voice continued, not even bothering to hide his disdain, "Just as the Blood God had sent me to assist you, so had his arch-nemesis, the Prince of Pleasure, sent one of his minions to that girl's counsel. No doubt, they are planning on how to produce and acquire more Grief Seeds even as we speak."

"Then it's even more important that we stop them." Sayaka decided. Kyouko could not be allowed to do as she wishes to the populace. The duty of a Magical Girl was to defend the innocent from the Witches' predations; such abuse of her power was surely justification enough for Sayaka to spill her blood.

"But before you acquire more Grief Seeds, please assume that you cannot defeat Kyouko in a one-on-one situation." Kyubey's assessment of their power disparity splashed a bucket of icy water over Sayaka's crusading fervor. It was true; the disparity between their power levels was way too large for Sayaka to compensate with her healing power.

"Ugh. What can I say? This sucks!" She sighed and stared at the dark ceiling of her room as her Soul Gem returned to its ring form. There must be some way that she could overcome this difficulty; throughout her life, there had always been a way for her to move forward, regardless of how difficult it was for her to reach her goal.

"Wait a second. Miss Mami didn't have enough Soul Gems, did she? But she could fight just as well as Kyouko, couldn't she? Then, some people must be better at this naturally than others?" That may be the key to her dilemma; Sayaka was a little excited. If there was something to Miss Mami's power, there must also be something that she could do to bridge the gap.

"Well, talent is certainly a factor, but Mami was a veteran; she was the best of the best." Another bucket of icy water cooled Sayaka's passion. "With time, your mastery of your power would increase, and that can compensate for the lack of Grief Seeds. Kyouko, on the other hand, is less experienced but more talented than Mami is; that was the key to how strong she was."

So, the answer was either to wait till she could get more Soul Gems, or wait till she could get more experience. "That is so unfair!" She dropped onto her bed and pouted.

"There is no quick way to greatness, Miki Sayaka." The voice reminded her with a rumble. "And I am certain that you shall be great indeed."

"Well, thanks." Sayaka smiled a little at his attempt to soothe her. He was never the most delicate speaker, but he did care about her. "If Mami's experienced but not talented, and Kyouko is both talented and experienced, then there must be people that are talented but not experienced?"

"That's right." Kyubey nodded as he hopped onto Sayaka's belly. "In fact, there's someone you know that could easily overpower any Magical Girl in existence."

"Who is it?" It certainly could not be Homura; she was way too savvy with her power to be "inexperienced." That leaves Hitomi, Madoka, and the couple of girls she knew in class. Among them, Madoka was the only one that Kyubey approached as far as she knew.

Could it be Madoka? No, no way; Sayaka concluded as she closed her eyes. Madoka was too timid to be a Magical Girl; she barely had the confidence to speak to Sayaka after Sayaka became a Magical Girl. Madoka—as a person—was way too insecure and had too much doubt about herself to truly be effective as a Magical Girl. But then again, talent did not correlate with confidence.

Could it be Hitomi? Sayaka rolled her eyes under their lids. Hitomi was a possibility. There were too many unknowns about her that Sayaka could not say for certain; Sayaka did not even know whether or not Kyubey had approached her yet. However, she had been behaving strangely as of late: leaving for home early, refusing to hang out with them, and—most importantly—generally warming up to Homura. Perhaps she would be the one.

"The one I'm talking about is Kaname Madoka."

Sayaka's heart skipped a beat. Madoka? How could an insecure klutz like her have so much potential? How could she "easily overpower any Magical Girl in existence"? Kyubey must be delusional: "Madoka? Hey, don't jerk me around! There's no way Madoka could be that powerful!"

"But I am speaking the truth." Kyubey's smile did not falter. He sounded earnest, too; Sayaka noted. Maybe he was not lying at all? "I'm not capable of telling lies, after all."

"Kaname Madoka's potential is great, indeed." The voice in her head complemented Kyubey's statement. "If I were to judge, she could be a vessel fit for the Blood God himself."

Madoka? The vessel for a God? "You two, stop screwing around with me! Madoka can't be that talented!" It was unfathomable! If Madoka knew how powerful she was, why had she not contracted yet? That power may just give her the confidence she needed! Sayaka made a few dry chuckles, but then her eyes met Kyubey's ruby beads and her face froze.

He was being serious.

"And so was I." The voice rumbled with some discontent. "Sayaka, your power is like a cup of water; plentiful to quench thirst, yet not close enough to put out a flaming house. Madoka's power is more like a star-sized globe of water; it, by itself, is sufficient to drown everyone in this entire star system. Such is the difference between your potential and hers."

Sayaka gulped. That was a rather unflattering comparison; a cup comparing with a huge freaking star? That was no comparison! That was downright embarrassing! "Hey, I could still stand my own against Kyouko!"

"Well, if you want to win against her in your current state, you're better off asking Madoka for help." Kyubey knew not how to spare her face, it seemed; Sayaka groaned, but then she started thinking. If Madoka were indeed as powerful as they had claimed, then she would easily curb-stomp Kyouko even if she had just contracted. It would be an easy way out of her situation, and it would stop Kyouko dead in her tracks.

But was that the right thing to do? Sayaka thought not. First, the quarrel was between her and Kyouko; even though Kyouko was planning on having that familiar gorge on human lives before harvesting it like some kind of crop, it was her who took issue on that in the first place. Involving Madoka into their quarrel was not only a sign of weakness, it was a sign of cowardice, that Sayaka needed Madoka to prove her point. It would invalidate anything and everything she stood for.

Secondly, Sayaka was not sure that Madoka was ready for contracting yet. Even though Madoka would contract if Sayaka ask her to, the mere idea of forcing Madoka into becoming a Magical Girl left a sour taste in her mouth. The choice of becoming a Magical Girl was not an easy one; Sayaka herself agonized over it for days before coming to a conclusion. Telling Madoka "hey, you should contract because I need your help" would deprive her of her freedom of choice, and that was something Sayaka would least like to see.

"No. I won't involve Madoka just yet. I need to resolve this thing on my own." Her hands curled into fists. This had been personal since the moment Kyouko wrapped her legs around Sayaka's head and tossed her into a crumpled heap in front of Madoka. Even though it would take her longer, and even though the road to victory was foggy and unclear, she knew that eventually she would find a way.

"If you say so." Was there some disappointment in Kyubey's voice? Sayaka's thoughts blurred as fatigue took hold.

Maybe he was just disappointed that he could not make another contract; she answered her own question as drowsiness washed over her like an irresistible tide. It had been a long day, indeed.

* * *

><p>Kyouko twisted her body as her feet moved to correspond to the prompt on the dance machine in the arcade.<p>

She liked dancing ever since she was little. Although the boons she had gained over the years of serving as a Magical Girl prevented her from gaining fat from pretty much anything, she still liked the occasional exercise. Besides, a girl with her lithe figure would pretty much get all the attention on the dance floor, especially after she pulled some breakdancing moves.

Men were pathetic creatures; Kyouko sneered as she made a splitting hop. They were greedy idiots that simply thought with their lower bodies; they would give and do anything to satisfy those desires. They were not wrong, in some sense; everyone lived their lives trying to obtain more wealth, more happiness, and more pleasure. After all, no one liked to endure suffering, and no one liked to die.

It was all the more convenient for her. Getting the next day's expenses was as easy as hitting on some drunkard after work and bludgeoning him in the head with a baseball bat. The price of the information she wanted on that blue-haired snob, that pink-haired wimp, that green-haired princess and that black-haired weirdo was just a couple of favors for some boys in their class.

The information she got out of them, though, was barely worth the cost. The blue-haired snob was apparently a slacker and a prude; she was blunt, direct, and brutally honest about everything. That pink-haired wimp was as timid as they come, never even talking much to girls, not to mention boys. That green-haired princess was the model that everyone aspired to be; some of the boys Kyouko recruited were even die-hard fans before they fell for Kyouko.

But it was the black-haired girl that was the most intriguing. Her name was Akemi Homura, and she had just transferred to Mitakihara from what appeared to be a hospital, judging from records she got from an infatuated middle-aged "public servant". A swift and debilitating kick to the nuts was his just reward, Kyouko chuckled as she pulled another biscuit stick out with her mouth while standing on her left hand; he would not be walking straight for a while.

The thing was, though, nobody knew much about her. She was reclusive to everyone, not even opening up to the warmest of queries. Her government records, too, ended shortly after her release from the hospital. They did not even have her address, or her social security number, or anything that could be used to trace her.

It made Homura all the more unpredictable, Kyouko grunted as she busted another dance move. Behavioral analysis on her potential allies and enemies were necessary; the fact that she liked the exercise was a welcoming bonus. From what she pulled from government records and gathered from her network of spies, the blue-head, green-head and pink-head were all very much predictable. Homura was another case entirely; Kyouko sighed as she kept dancing, hoping that the vigorous exercise could drain away her frustration.

Dealing with Homura would require a delicate touch. Since Kyouko could not predict Homura's reactions, she had to develop Homura's profile herself; interactions were essential.

And speaking of interactions, Kyouko had just caught Homura's figure in the corner of her eyes. What did she want this time? They did not exactly part on the best of terms last time; Kyouko could still feel the burn that bullet left on her face.

"Remember it! Remember it! Remember the pain! Remember the exhilaration! Being inches away from doom is exciting stuff, isn't it?" The voice in her head cackled. Kyouko grunted as she did another flip, and a forceful stomp silenced it. Hopefully this time, it would keep it from rambling for a little longer than two days.

"What ya doin' here, Akemi Homura?" Kyouko intentionally stressed her name. Homura dropping her name in the middle of that fight was a shock, but it was not unexpected. Mami was in town, after all; and if she had any significant interaction with Homura, Homura would know of Kyouko's existence. Kyouko could pry open Mami's grave and ask her whether or not she spilled the beans, but it was not her style.

"Good for you. You figured out my name. I expected as much." The name drop did not have nearly as dramatic an effect as it did when Homura applied it to her; Kyouko noted with a bitter "tsk". It was the same deadpan flat tone, devoid of any emotion. It was as if she was without a soul.

"Ya din' answer ma question."

"I'm here to offer you a peace gesture." The empty voice annoyed Kyouko somewhat, but she was far more interested in the content of her words. "I want to leave this city to you."

Offering the entire city's worth of Witches and familiars to her as a peace gesture? What level, exactly, was Homura playing her games at? Cities were awfully abundant in migrant familiars, many of which develop into Witches. For a city the size of Mitakihara, two Magical Girls can live in harmony provided that they let some familiars become Witches and not kill them on sight like that blue-haired knucklehead. As such, Homura's offer was an extremely generous gesture: "What brought this about?"

"Girls like you are ideal candidates for Magical Girls. Miki Sayaka is incompatible."

"Well, ain't ya da sharp one." Regardless of how Kyouko thought about her, she was right about one thing. Miki Sayaka was not fit to be a Magical Girl: a girl so high-strung on the lofty ideals of justice, valor, the sanctity of life, and doing the right thing had never had a long life expectancy in this business. "So, whatcha plan on doin' with dat dim-witted blockhead? If ya leave her 'round, she's just gonna cause trouble."

"She's my problem."

So far, Kyouko had not gotten a bad bargain at all. Dealing with that bonehead herself was a waste of energy, even though putting her down would somewhat give Kyouko a sense of satisfaction. Now that Homura had offered to shoulder the burden, Kyouko was more than happy to let that slide.

But there had never been a free lunch, and there never would be in this world. So far, Homura had offered nothing but benefits for Kyouko; there must have been something that she wanted from Kyouko: "Ya got strings on all these goodies, dontcha? What do you want from me?"

"Two weeks from today, a Walpurgisnacht is coming into town." Kyouko's heart skipped a beat and her sneer disappeared, but she did not miss a dance move. A Walpurgisnacht was an extraordinarily powerful Witch, often requiring two or more Magical Girls working in tandem to take down, and often not all of those Magical Girls could make it out alive. Mami told her that; Kyouko found it funny that she still remembered it.

"How'd ya know?" Witches' movements were impossible to predict, even for that white-furred bastard. They roam around, trying to eat as many people as they could. The fact that Homura could pinpoint the date for this particular Walpurgisnacht was nothing less than shocking.

"It's my secret." Homura flicked her silky hair. "In any case, once that is defeated, I shall leave the city in your capable hands."

She was a master negotiator, that Homura; Kyouko scoffed. She presented the candies first, making them as enticing as possible, and then brought out the medicine. She was looking for allies to take down that Walpurgisnacht; for these benefits, Kyouko may have to pay with her life.

It was not a risk she ever wanted to take, but what the hell; every time she fought with a Witch, she was playing with fire, anyway. Besides, those boons were simply too good to ignore: Mitakihara all to herself, no more interruptions and no more nuisances.

Kyouko made a final hop and struck a pose. The scoreboard on the dance machine refreshed; it was a perfect game. Pulling her box of biscuit sticks from her jacket pocket, she shook a single stick out and offered it to Homura: "Want one?"

* * *

><p>Hitomi slowly rotated the coffee cup with her hands. There was still some time left before she had to go to her piano lesson; Madoka wanted to meet her here alone.<p>

Hitomi had not had a single night of peaceful sleep ever since that conversation she had with Homura. She knew that the Magical Girl business was hazardous to health, but she never imagined it to be as bad as Homura described. Sure, the two soldiers at that meeting did not take it well, either, but they appeared to have adjusted to it better.

Since Sayaka had already contracted, all Hitomi could do for her was to prolong the inevitable. She gripped the ceramic coffee cup with her hands, and the warm surface only sent electric chills throughout her body. Even with Homura hard at work to the same end, Hitomi felt that she should at least do something to help. It was only appropriate; both Sayaka and Madoka were her friends.

Madoka returned with two slices of cake and a cup of steaming tea. Both of them sat there and avoided each other's eyes.

"I… um… thanks for your help yesterday…" Madoka broke the ice and Hitomi snapped her head up. Madoka still avoided Hitomi's eyes; Hitomi knew that it was difficult for her to be open and forthcoming. Maybe she should have broken the ice instead.

"Um, no, it's no problem." Even a feigned smile felt painful. "I should apologize first… I, um… I'm sorry that I yelled at you the other day… I…"

"We didn't give you much choice." Madoka returned an equally painful smile. "We thought it best to keep you out of the loop, especially after we knew how dangerous it could be."

From hindsight, maybe she would have been happier if her curiosity did not get a hold of her; Hitomi chuckled. Then, she would be free to fall in love with Kamijou, instead of getting stuck neck-deep in this swamp.

Speaking of which… "Do you know Kamijou Kyousuke?"

Madoka jolted upright, as if she were hit by an arrow. She glanced left and right, before chuckling nervously and stammering: "Wh-wh-what are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb with me." Sayaka always went to Madoka for these kinds of things. There was absolutely no way that she did not know. "You know him, right?"

Madoka bowed her head and whispered: "Yeah."

"He showed up in my piano class. I'm to be his accompaniment in his debut since he recovered." Hitomi left out the bit where he tried to hit on her. "I want to know about him."

"What… what is it that you want to know?" Madoka tried to hide her speech under the background music.

"Did Sayaka have anything to do with his recovery? Did she wish for his recovery as a price of her becoming a Magical Girl?" Hitomi already had a hunch. Sayaka was a pretty ordinary girl except that she was madly in love with this guy. Furthermore, she did not often consider the consequences of her actions and words. It was the most plausible explanation for his recovery.

"I knew it." Madoka's silence only served to confirm Hitomi's suspicion. If she was not, Madoka would have quickly denied it. Hitomi buried her face in her palms with a long sigh. "She shouldn't have contracted!"

It was self-sacrifice, and one of the most foolish ones at that. If Sayaka knew that Kyousuke had been trying to hit on Hitomi, what would she think? Sayaka was too shy to express herself clearly; she would either retreat into her own shell, or go berserk and murder them all.

"Hitomi-chan…" Madoka tried and failed again to hide her voice under the background music, "Are you interested in Mr. Kamijou?"

"Oh, no. I just want to know so that I can help Sayaka with her… relationship problems." Hitomi could feel cold sweat seeping out of her pores. If Madoka conveyed the wrong idea to Sayaka, it would be no different from saying to her face "you've got a nice love interest there, shame if something happens to it!"

Madoka's sigh of relief was reassuring: "I think things are going well between Sayaka-chan and Mr. Kamijou, but I'm sure she'd appreciate your help."

Or, Sayaka could kill Hitomi because she perceived Hitomi as a threat; Hitomi hid that bitter chuckle from Madoka: "Well, I'll be sure to help her with every chance I get."

"Speaking of which, you said that Sayaka-chan shouldn't have become a Magical Girl. Did you talk to Homura-chan, too?" Hitomi could feel sweat oozing out of her pores all over her body once again. Madoka was timid, sure, but she was extremely perceptive. Hitomi's slip of her tongue did not go unnoticed, after all.

How should she respond? Hitomi chuckled nervously as she scratched her head. Homura emphasized in her talk that no one else—especially not Madoka—should know the truth until the time was right. And given the nature of that information, Hitomi agreed; sometimes, people must see the truth in its hideous, grotesque glory before they would accept it: "Yeah, I talked to her. I just wanted to know more about being a Magical Girl; that's all."

"Do you want to become a Magical Girl?"

That question was unexpected: "Honestly? I don't think so, unless I have something worth sacrificing my life for. What about you?"

Madoka shook her head, to Hitomi's great relief. Homura had stressed—over and over again—the importance of not having Madoka contract. That answer meant that they were safe, for the moment. But circumstances and environments change all the time; keeping a vigilant eye on Madoka would not hurt, Hitomi reckoned.

"I'm scared, Hitomi-chan…" Madoka put her arms on the small tea table and buried her head in it. "I'm scared that Sayaka might get killed. And Homura-chan refused to watch out for her, too. What should I do…? What should I do?"

Hitomi could understand Homura's reasoning behind her refusal. If Homura's past experience was to be believed, Sayaka's fall was a simple matter of time, unless Hitomi could get Kyousuke to like Sayaka. Judging from that bastard's opinion of Sayaka, however, the solution seemed more unlikely each day.

But her refusal had left Madoka in a particularly helpless position. Madoka did not know about the multitude of Homura's experiences; she had no idea what would happen to Sayaka given time. Being one of her only friends, it was understandable that Madoka wanted to help Sayaka, and perhaps unintentionally delay her conversion, and Homura was one of Madoka's last resorts.

"Maybe you should talk to Sayaka instead." Hitomi suggested. "Maybe you should let her know what you're thinking. Maybe you should try and talk her out of whatever she was doing that you didn't like."

"But… I'm not sure if I could be convincing enough." Madoka muttered. Her timid side was showing up again, moaned Hitomi inside. "I don't know. Maybe I'll try. I'm supposed to meet her where we were yesterday in a bit."

"That's right. You never know until you've tried." That should be all the encouragement she needed, Hitomi raised her coffee cup and clinked with Madoka. "Good luck."

* * *

><p>Sergeant Dividus was not pleased. The Inquisitor had finally come out of the city with a squad of Imperial Guardsmen with him. The hunt for the Xenos was fruitless; their convoluting and confusing tracks had only wasted their time. Torvus' words made a lasting impression on Dividus' mind. It was as if the Inquisitor was intentionally wasting their time, as if he trusted the Imperial Guard with the more important matters at hand, even though the Black Templars were clearly superior soldiers.<p>

However, it was indeed reassuring that the Inquisitor was still willing to share information with them, even though the information he just received was too preposterous to believe.

"There will be a major daemonic incursion two weeks from now." Kane said. A Guardsman promptly brought out a map of Mitakihara and unfurled it in front of them.

"We are here," He pointed with a branch in his hand, "at the border of the city. The daemon, according to my sources, will invade from this direction."

"What type of warp-spawn?" Dividus asked.

"Unknown, but assume it to be a Greater Daemon."

"There must be a ritual summoning it to the Materium." Sullivus added his speculation. "We could enter the city and destroy the summoning ritual, and then it would not be a problem."

"We're working on finding the summoning ritual. It is well-concealed and well-guarded."

Dividus frowned. Kane had always been the impatient and puritanical type; if he had found a cult in the city, he would not hesitate to purge the entire population just to stop the summoning of a Greater Daemon. Yet, he was taking a cautious stance in this issue. What was going on with him? What made this radical change within him?

"We could always purge the city." Sullivus suggested, but Dividus saw Kane give him a severe glare.

"No. We're outnumbered in the middle of a city filled with potential hosts for daemons. If we start a campaign of blood here, there is no telling what these psykers may do in desperation." Even if Kane had a point, it was nothing that they could not handle; all they needed was ammunition, and they were plentiful.

"Inquisitor," Dividus rumbled slowly, "do you deem the Xenos a threat more severe than a Greater Daemon?"

"They are both threats and they both need to be eliminated." Kane replied as he stood up, "The Imperial Guard and I can operate without attracting much attention within the city, while you are better at tracking and eliminating those highly dangerous Xenos. We've got a lot of work to do, Sergeant; I hope your men are up for the task."

"I hope your men can carry their share of the weight." The Guardsmen's faces did not twitch; it seemed that the derision was lost on them; or that they were used to taking insults, like the weaklings they were.

"Very well. We shall talk more at a later time."

Sullivus almost spat on the ground as Kane and his men left without a glance back: "Abominable psykers!"

Dividus shared his frustration. The Inquisitor's assessment of the situation was accurate as far as they knew; desperate psykers had been known to attract daemons, and sometimes even greater daemons. One greater daemon was already extremely difficult to eliminate with their current gear; if purging the city would cause dozens, or even hundreds, of greater daemons to manifest, the Inquisitor could only resort to Exterminatus.

Exterminatus was fine by Dividus; a planet infested by abominable psykers should already have been purged, anyway. The problem would be that they would not be able to carry it out until the Warp Storm dissipates; the _Invicta_ was simply not equipped with such firepower.

Even so, the decision left a bad taste in Dividus' mouth. Given the known incompetence and corruption that ran rampant within certain Imperial Guard regiments, he expected them to fail to find any sign of a ritual inside the city, even when the Inquisitor knew it existed. The ritual would complete through sheer ignorance from the Guardsmen, and then all of them—including the city's inhabitants—would be slaughtered by the greater daemon. Normally, this would not be a problem, except making it much, much more difficult for him and his squad to kill the daemon.

"Sire, pardon me for my impudence," Torvus spoke, standing between Dividus and Sullivus, "but I cannot shake the instinctive feeling that the Inquisitor had been hiding something from us."

"What do you mean?"

"What are his sources on the greater daemon's incursion?"

These words lit up Dividus' mind. Torvus was observant, as always. He could have a variety of sources: cultists that he captured and interrogated or Imperial Guard scouts sent to retrieve information. Still, the fact that Kane had hidden details behind "his sources" was disconcerting.

"How could he know so accurately that a daemon would invade form this direction?" It was another point to ponder. Although an abominable psyker had the power to predict the future, at Kane's level of power the vision would be extremely limited and fuzzy at best; two weeks were certainly a timeframe too large for Kane to produce such accurate prophecy.

"Are you suggesting that he had unholy assistance?" Sullivus' question chilled Dividus to the bone. If Kane was indeed possessed and working toward the Traitor's goals, then they had been played for fools all along. All his current fears would be validated.

"But it does not make sense." Iohannes interjected after a long time in silence. "It simply made no sense for him to offer us this information, if what you said is true, brother."

"How so?"

"If he wanted to offer the planet to the Traitors, would he alert us of the imminent attack from the daemon? Would it not be more beneficial to him to keep us in the dark, and send us on useless errands, while he completes the ritual?" Iohannes asked several rhetorical questions.

"My Lords," Torvus added, "I am simply speculating. Forgive me for my impudence."

"Both of you have valid concerns." Iohannes had a point, if Kane was telling them the truth. But if that _was _the case, killing him would only dwindle the chances of defeating the Greater Daemon further, if—and when—it appeared.

To suspect an Inquisitor of being a heretic was a radical move, especially for those outside the Inquisition like Dividus and his squad. It mattered not how strongly he was convicted of his decision; it mattered whether or not he could prove, once and for all, that Kane was a heretic and should be burned at the stakes.

"We still have work to do." He stood up, his armor creaking in the process. This planet was a strange place, indeed; all he could do was to focus on hunting down those Xenos.

And then he would need to find the evidence needed to put Kane's head on a spike.

* * *

><p>"It's no good. It's been too long. It doesn't look like we have any clues to help us track it down." Kyubey commented as he rode on Sayaka's shoulder. Sayaka kneeled down and examined the impact crater Kyouko made yesterday when they fought each other, while Madoka stood and watched her.<p>

"Damn it." They were trying to track that familiar down using its magic residue. However, time had erased any tracks it made. Sayaka let out a frustrated growl and stood up, before scratching her head in annoyance.

Maybe this was a good time to talk to Sayaka about not fighting the other Magical Girls; Madoka thought. Sayaka could certainly use the help from Kyouko and Homura to track the familiar down; perhaps trying to persuade her at that moment would be more effective: "Hey, Sayaka, listen…"

"What is it?" Her reply was more forceful than usual.

Madoka cringed at the tone, but it did not discourage her from speaking up again: "If you keep on hunting Witches, won't you run into Miss Kyouko again?"

"Well, I guess I'd have to, yeah."

"Then, isn't it a good idea to talk it over with her and resolve your differences? If you do that, you might just avoid fighting her again."

Sayaka tilted her head with her back toward Madoka, sending an icy glare at her. Madoka had never seen Sayaka with such murderous intent before; she almost fell on her behind as she took a step backward from the stare.

"Did the fight between me and that bitch seem like a game to you?" Sayaka accused. It was not a question; questions were not meant to be so merciless.

Still, Madoka searched for an answer to it. Last night's fight was… Sayaka was certainly giving it her all, but Kyouko… she could not say. Kyouko's moves contained too much graceful acrobatics to be called combat moves. It was as if she was literally dancing on the battlefield and enjoying every minute she spent fighting Sayaka. But at the end, it was only Homura who could stop Kyouko from killing Sayaka, so…

"That wasn't just a fight! We were trying to kill each other!" Sayaka continued, snapping Madoka out of her thoughts. "Even though we were messing around from the beginning, we started getting serious about killing each other after she grabbed my head with her legs and tossed me into a heap."

"That… you can't leave it as it is! You have to fix it…"

"And you want me to try and talk to her!? Are you retarded!?" Sayaka's voice—no, it was a thunderous roar—rattled Madoka to the core as Madoka stood still like a lamp post, stunned. What had she done to provoke such rage from Sayaka? Speaking of which, where was that cheerful blue-haired girl that she knew as a friend?

"She's someone who wants to treat humans as live bait just to get more Grief Seeds to bolster her power!" Madoka was sure that the ground itself shook as Sayaka stomped. "How the hell am I supposed to get along with someone like that!?"

"Um, uh, you became a Magical Girl to fight Witches, right? Miss Kyouko isn't a Witch; she's a Magical Girl like you!" Madoka honestly had no idea what to say. Sayaka had ample reasons to hate Kyouko; after all, she did appear to be amoral in front of everyone, saying that Witches killing people were merely "part of the food chain". But, Madoka knew instinctively that for their best benefits, Sayaka and Kyouko needed to ally with each other. "There must be a way to make up with her, right? You wanted to kill Witches, and she also wanted to kill Witches, so there must be a way for you to work with her…

"… and Homura-chan, too?" Madoka did not know why she added Homura to the list of people she hoped Sayaka would befriend. It seemed logical at the time: Homura was a Magical Girl with whom Sayaka did not get along with well; Homura was a good, kind-hearted person; and Homura was powerful enough that she would help Sayaka immensely if they worked together.

But the mere utterance of her name seemed to drive Sayaka further into exasperation. She gritted her teeth, and her hands clenched into tight fists: "They're worse than Witches! Both of them!"

"But, if Miss Mami didn't fight with Homura-chan…" If Miss Mami did not fight with Homura, then she would still be alive. Madoka wanted to say that. Miss Mami touched both of their lives deeply; maybe using Miss Mami as an example would persuade her.

But she was wrong. Horribly wrong.

"Impossible!" Sayaka's bellow was so intense that Madoka fell on her bottom and shielded her ears. She was certain that the bellow caused the alley walls to crack. "You saw her too, right? She waited for Miss Mami to die before she came to kill the Witch! All she wanted was its Grief Seed! She didn't care about Miss Mami at all!"

"No… that's not… what happened…" Madoka whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. She was there. She saw Mami bind Homura. She saw Homura begging Mami not to head off alone. Homura was not the type of person who would wait for Mami to die before swooping in and getting the Grief Seed; she was even offering to fight the Witch on Mami's behalf, and Mami refused.

"That transfer student is the same! They are the same! They are both heartless bitches that care only about getting Grief Seeds!" Sayaka finished with a deep breath, "Now, I finally understand. Miss Mami was the only one who's different. Miss Mami was the only good Magical Girl. Every single one of them is rotten to the core. Every single one of them is an arrogant, amoral, and apathetic psychopath!"

"No…" Sayaka was not there. Sayaka knew not the truth. Sayaka was misguided. But no matter how Madoka tried, she simply could not muster the courage to yell back at a hysterical Sayaka.

"The beast that got away last night was weak, but it still can kill innocents!" Sayaka continued; her gaze bored into Madoka's trembling body like a drill. "It could go after your mom or dad next! It could even go after your little brother! Are you saying that you should just let that happen!?

"Could you really forgive someone if they let that happen?" Madoka knew the answer. She would never be able to forgive them. Even though Sayaka was misguided about Homura's and Kyouko's character, she was right to pursue the familiar. But if she encountered Kyouko or Homura again, one of them would get killed. And it most likely would be Sayaka who would die. It was not something that Madoka wanted to see, either. Why could she not understand?

"You know, you were wrong about why I became a Magical Girl." Sayaka's whisper reached Madoka's ringing ears as the blue-haired girl turned her back to Madoka and tilted her head back to look at Madoka from the corner of her eyes. "I'm not here to kill Witches; no, I'm not like those whores. I became a Magical Girl because I wanted to protect people I love and care about. And if anything comes between me and my purpose, I will kill them, Witch or not."

What Madoka saw in Sayaka's eyes horrified her. They were not human; they were almost bestial, burning with bloodlust only seen in predators. Her entire body seemed to twist in Madoka's eyes, her clothes drenched in crimson, her face splattered with drops of fresh arterial blood squirting out of her victims, and her smile full of sadistic glee.

Madoka rubbed her face and sobbed. She was certainly hallucinating again, as when she opened her eyes again, none of Sayaka's features changed. Her uniform was clean, her face devoid of blood. But somehow, Madoka could not shake the feeling that one day, her vision would come true.

She shivered. Her surroundings felt unnaturally cold, somehow. Tears would not stop pouring forth from her eyes, rolling down her cheek and dripping onto the concrete ground from her chin.

"Kyubey, please say something to her… anything… please help her change her mind…" It was pathetic; Madoka sobbed as she begged the creature in front of her. She was so powerless that she had to plead to a mysterious creature in order to save her friend.

But he was not interested: "The only thing that I can tell her is that she's being too reckless. Sayaka currently simply cannot win against Akemi Homura or Sakura Kyouko; but she wouldn't listen to what I say."

And then, he strode toward Sayaka, leaving Madoka weeping quietly on the ground.

* * *

><p>"I don't understand why the LT dropped us here to do logistics work." Private First Class Jeremiah Jenkins grumbled as he stuffed a bolter shell into a sickle magazine. The rest of the platoon was out, blending into the populace and scouting out the area. The sun was slowly setting, its rays coloring the interior of the entire house orange. "My frakking hands are sore."<p>

"It ain't like that gal couldn't handle them herself." Private David Finley muttered. With a grunt, he pulled a belt of storm bolter rounds from a green crate and started feeding them into a large ammunition drum. "You know she bears the Seal like the Inquisitor, right?"

"Guys, what do you think she needs these for?" Private Thomas Lannister rolled an enormous drum with two belt braces dangling from the side into the room from the backyard. "I overheard the Techpriests before we dropped; they say that these are as big as the drums used on a Baneblade."

"How many rounds does that thing hold, Tom?" David asked as he gently broke off the continuous belt. The double disc drum he held could possibly hold two hundred rounds, and a storm bolter would go through that in under ten seconds.

"I don't know. Three thousand? Four thousand?" Thomas replied, as David assisted him in opening the drum. "I wonder how she could carry them all."

"Guys, you hearing what I'm saying? The girl's got the Seal of the Inquisition with her." David flexed his fingers and stretched his arms. "You think she's also an inquisitor?"

"Who cares?" Came Jeremiah's reply, "It's not like we don't know we're neck deep in shit. We're lucky we're still alive after the Inquisitor drafted us."

"She doesn't talk much, either, like the Inquisitor." David continued, "And she looks so young! How old do y'all think she is?"

"What, kid, you got a crush on the girl?" Jeremiah teased, "You don't seem like her type!"

"Shut your pie hole, Jerry! I'm just trying to figure out who she is and what she wants with us!"

"Y'know, for someone who couldn't even read your field manual without help, you sure worry about big things!" Jeremiah's retort earned him a bolter shell thrown at his head, "Hey! Those are live, you dimwit!"

"Frakked if I care!"

The armored door creaked and opened, and light spilled into the room. Homura's shadow loomed over the three Guardsmen. After a brief moment of silence, all three of them abandoned their work and saluted her return.

"As you were." Homura closed the door and took off her shoes. The Guardsmen hesitated a moment, before resuming their duties, but David snuck glances at Homura whenever he could.

"Dave, don't tell me you're checking her out right in front of her." Thomas whispered as he tucked the last bit of the ammo belt into the large drum.

"Frak you!" David retorted and slammed the bottom of the large drum so hard that Thomas barely had the time to move his hands away.

"She is hot, ain't she? I wish my wife was this hot." Jeremiah scurried over to the pair and joined the conversation. "I'd say she's barely twenty. Just right for ya, kid."

"But she's an inquisitor! I heard they shoot whoever they don't like!" Just as David finished the sentence, the three Guardsmen finally noticed Homura's shadow looming over them as she stood barely a foot from them. Homura's guise did not change, but the three Guardsmen's faces turned pale and their mouths slightly agape at her sudden appearance. The awkward silence continued for about a second, before all three of them snapped to attention again, their legs quivering slightly.

The least they would get was a good lashing, David was sure; she probably would not tolerate the idea of a couple of lowly Guardsmen sizing her up as a potential mate. As an inquisitor, she could simply shoot them and hang their bodies out to dry like fish and nobody would even bat an eyebrow; a lashing would be the lightest of punishments.

Instead, Homura shoved a large paper bag into David's chest: "Food for tonight."

The bag was heavy, and heat seeped through its brown paper. It took him almost ten seconds to raise his arms and take the bag. This was _not_ what he was expecting. "Thank you, Milady!" All three of them boomed simultaneously. Homura only flicked her hair, before walking to a green crate and retrieving a storm bolter.

The food was local: a large tub of what appeared to be fried potato sticks, a disc of meat sandwiched between two halves of a bread bun, and three paper cups of black fizzing liquid. Still, it tasted much, much better than the Guardsmen's field rations, and certainly better than Soylent Viridian. David chewed the food so slowly that it had turned into a watery paste before he washed it down with some liquid from his cup. The sensation of the drink bubbling down his throat was surprisingly pleasant.

Meanwhile, Homura was quietly disassembling the storm bolter on the tea table. She recited no incantations, nor did she have sacred ointment on the tea table. Yet the bolter did not seem to complain. Quickly, she reassembled the bolter again, repeated the process once more, and then repeated the process a third time.

"You think she's not familiar with the equipment?" Jeremiah quietly nudged David. "It seems to me that she's trying to learn how to please the Machine Spirit."

"That's impossible," Thomas stared longingly at the unfinished food in David's hand, his saliva almost dripping onto the carpet, "She's an inquisitor! She must know the maintenance rituals!"

Homura quietly took her reassembled storm bolter and walked to the large drum. David was sure that her small figure could fit inside that drum comfortably. With some effort, she rolled the drum so that the belt braces were facing her, and with a tug she extended them, before carefully inserting each belt brace into a feeding port of the storm bolter.

"How come nobody had thought of using these belt-fed drums with a storm bolter?" David spoke to himself. He was sure that there were people doing precisely the same thing as Homura did, but the idea never gained traction, somehow.

Homura pulled the charging handles on the storm bolter, loading the weapon with its first rounds. She moved the weapon around, waving it in the air; albeit clumsy and stiff, the belt braces extended and moved with her. A smile of satisfaction crept up the corner of her lips.

David watched with a slack jaw as the ring on Homura's right middle finger let out a burst of violet light. The drum and the storm bolter were shrouded in the light, and within moments, both objected vanished into thin air.

What was that? What did she just do? What just happened? David had no idea. Homura turned to all three of them with a satisfied smile, and whispered "Thank you" before she headed upstairs.

"I guess she's not that bad, huh." Jeremiah smiled at a slack-jawed David. "Goes to show that even a girl like her can surprise you."

David was at a loss for words. He was even more stunned when he found that Thomas was chewing on his half of dinner.

* * *

><p>Kaname Junko sat at the dinner table alone and poured herself a glass of Johnny Walker Blue. Whiskey had always been her favorite amongst alcoholic drinks; she acquired a taste for it as she climbed the corporate ladder.<p>

The mess at the company was only one of the things at the top of her mind, however. Madoka, her daughter, had been behaving strangely as of late. She had become quieter these couple of weeks, and it was Junko who had to maintain the chats during their morning routine. Madoka had even cried a couple of times during breakfast, completely out of the blue. At first, Junko assumed that Madoka was merely remembering a bad dream; but, the recent trend of Madoka getting more and more depressed was alarming.

What could cause such a change within her? Junko sipped her whiskey as she leaned her cheek onto her hand. Madoka was certainly experiencing a time of drastic change; puberty was, after all, one of the most stressful times for parents as well as for kids. However, puberty could not explain everything. It certainly failed to explain Madoka's change from an optimistic and cheerful teenager to a brooding and depressed girl.

Something was certainly not going right. But what was it? Could it be something that happened in school? She was talking enthusiastically about a girl named Mami the other day; could something have happened to her? What about her friends, Sayaka and Kyouko? Could she be in an unrequited love with a boy in her class?

Junko growled and emptied her glass. All of these questions she just drafted up were nothing but pure speculation at this point, and all they did was making her head hurt even more and dispelling the buzz from the whiskey. She sighed once more, before hearing quiet footsteps from behind her.

"Can't sleep?" Junko feigned as genuine a smile as she could. It mattered not what the cause of her daughter's recent depression was. Madoka certainly needed her support; as such, she must appear strong in front of her daughter.

Madoka nodded, still clutching her large teddy bear. Junko bought that for her on her twelfth birthday, and she had treasured it ever since. "No, I can't. Can I have a minute?"

The clock chimed one o'clock in the morning as Madoka quietly pulled out a chair and sat down. Junko walked over to the counter and poured her a glass of orange juice; as much as she liked whiskey, her daughter simply was not ready for it yet. The mother and the daughter clinked glasses, and Madoka took a big gulp of juice.

"What's on your mind?" Junko sipped her alcohol. This may be a good chance for her to get some answers to the host of questions she posed to herself earlier.

"Things have been going rough lately with my friends." Madoka whispered. "What she's doing and saying probably isn't wrong, but the more she tries to do what's right, the worse everything gets."

"That happens a lot." Junko could relate, in some sense. Sometimes, the right thing to do was not the correct thing to do. As she weathered the years and hopped from one company to another, she had learned that through harsh experience.

Madoka did not have that experience. She let out a surprised gasp and stared intently at Junko. "It really sucks, but people can't reach a happy ending just by doing what's right all the time. Actually, the more stubborn people become and insist that they're the right ones, the farther away happiness gets." Junko had the displeasure of dealing with such moronic people before. Normally, they were the young ones who had little experience sitting at a managerial position; the more they insisted on their way of doing things, the more divisive they were within their team. Eventually, some of those people had to leave, while others learned to soften up. She herself had to learn it the hard way; she did not wish the same to her daughter.

"It's terrible not being able to be happy even though she's not wrong."

"Yup."

"… What should I do?" Madoka leaned forward.

"Well, words usually couldn't fix the situation, could it?" Junko smiled. It was something on which she _could_ advise her daughter. Most of the people she dealt with had to be given a formal warning before they changed their ways. Madoka was not in a position of authority over her friends; reprimands and warnings, therefore, would not work.

"Do you want to solve this problem by any means necessary?" Junko paused after Madoka nodded. The fact that she was desperate enough to go for any means, not just the ones that she could comfortably accomplish, was a surprise to Junko. It must be serious, this dispute with her friend; the buzz from her whiskey suddenly lifted as Junko's brain spun. Not knowing the circumstances severely limited Junko's options. Judging from her daughter's recent words and actions, it was fairly unlikely that Junko could pry anything about the situation from Madoka's mouth. Still, as a mother, she was obligated to give whatever advice she could.

"Then, do something wrong for a change." She finally spoke.

Madoka was confused as her head perked right up: "Huh?"

It was a pretty unusual statement, telling her daughter to do something wrong: "Show them that doing the wrong thing sometimes could have a more positive outcome than doing the right thing."

"What kind of wrong things?"

"Telling a white lie, or running away from something scary, things like that." Junko continued. "Sometimes, when you hit a dead end, it's okay to make mistakes, especially when you are young."

"Would they understand that I'm doing this for them?" There was certainly the risk of aggravating the divide between her and her friends with this method; Junko sipped her whiskey again. But Madoka had to be prepared to receive flak, especially if the benefits of her actions were not immediately apparent.

"Probably not, if they insist on being right all the time. Especially not right afterwards." Junko rested her chin on her hand, and stared at her attentive daughter in the eye. Madoka was completely absorbed in their conversation, and Junko could see the cogs and wheels in her daughter's mind turning and churning, processing the information she just gave her. "This isn't the nicest way to do it, and it's probably going to land you in a mess shortly after.

"But think about this: would you rather abandon her than letting her get the wrong idea about you?" Some wise man once said that life was a series of multiple choice questions, each of which had no correct answer, Junko remembered; fate, as she believed, was simply a coincidental collection of choices made one after another. All she did for her entire life—at work, at home, at school—were cost-benefit analyses for each choice she needed to make. Of course, not all choices could be made with a level head; Junko knew that from a long time ago. She simply wanted Madoka to understand what these choices actually meant, and what she should do to pick one over the others.

Madoka tilted her head thoughtfully. She was considering Junko's opinion, savoring each word and phrase, coming to her own conclusions about how best to approach her problem. But she was still unconvinced about what Junko said; Junko watched her daughter with a smile: "Madoka, you've grown into a splendid girl. You don't lie, and you don't do anything bad; you're always trying hard to do what's right. You're already a wonderful girl for your age. That's why you should learn how to make mistakes before you grow up."

"Learn how to make mistakes?"

"When you're young, you recover from wounds faster. If you learn how to fall down now, it'll be easier for you later on." It was the truth. Making mistakes in her teenage years was nowhere close to as horrifying as it would be if she made a mistake as the senior management of her company: "When you get older, and when responsibilities start piling up on you, each mistake can cost you a lot."

"I see…" Madoka took a gulp from her glass. "Isn't it hard, though? Growing up?"

"Being an adult is tough for everyone. That's what alcohol's for." Junko's smile grew into a grin as Madoka chuckled. It was the first time her daughter had smiled in days.

"I want to grow up faster so I could drink with you."

Madoka said, maintaining her grin. Junko raised her glass and clinked with Madoka once again: "I'm looking forward to that!"

Both Madoka and Junko finished their drinks. Madoka took her leave, but Junko poured herself another glass of whiskey. Although she just gave her daughter some advice, there was still a bad taste lingering in her mouth. Teenagers were an emotional and angst-filled bunch, sure, but if the conversation with her daughter was any indication, Madoka was clearly involved in something serious, and she was not willing to share it with her mother.

The observation that Madoka was starting to conceal things to her parents hurt Junko so much that she halved the glass of whiskey. The burning sensation in her throat was quickly replaced by a burst of strange and comfortable warmth rising from her bowels. Madoka would not hide things from her parents, not unless it was for good reasons. What, then, could her reasons be?

Junko's eyelids slowly drooped down as her body warmed up from the alcohol. She could not do much, given Madoka's circumstances; the best she could do was to teach her and support her.

With that thought, her mind quietly drifted into the darkness. It had been a long day, indeed.

* * *

><p>Kyousuke's house was a large mansion situated a little bit outside Mitakihara city proper. The wrought iron trellis gate to their front yard was tightly closed, and cameras were installed on each side of the gate to monitor the entrance.<p>

Sayaka slowly came to a stop in front of the gates. They were cold and impersonal, their dark surfaces gleaming from the pale light of the moon. Kyousuke never told her he was released. She tried to find him in the hospital, only to be told by a passer-by nurse.

And she thought things were going well; what a deluded fool she was!

"You still harbor feelings for the boy." The voice grumbled in her mind. "These feelings will be your doom."

"What do you know about us?" Sayaka retorted. He had never had a high opinion of love and relationship sin general; maybe it was because his god was diametrically opposed to the god of lust and love.

"I know enough to cast aside foolishness such as those."

"Shut it. If you don't like it, get out of my head."

"If such foolishness could give your aggression purpose, I shall remain silent about it. Still, do not say that I did not warn you."

Sayaka sighed. It was unusual for Kyousuke not to contact her when such a large event was about to occur in his life. He had her cell phone number; it was simply a call away to reach her and tell her that he was moving back home. If it was that easy, why did he not do it?

Maybe he was too busy with all the paper work and all the stuff he had to do; Sayaka consoled herself. Maybe he was just neglectful and forgot to call her.

Although the answer sated her doubts for a moment, she could not help but let out a small sigh. If Kyousuke had cared about her as she had cared about him, he would not have forgotten; if Kyousuke had loved her as she had loved him, he would have taken a minute out of his life to call her and tell her that he had moved back home.

Did he truly care about her?

"Love makes you weak, Miki Sayaka."

"No, it doesn't." Sayaka retorted just as a string of piano notes spilled out from the mansion. Kyousuke was going to host a recital in a couple of weeks; the piano player was probably his accompaniment. Sure enough, long and winding notes from his violin flowed into the night air.

Sayaka sighed and closed her eyes. Love did not make her weak; it was her motivation to become a Magical Girl in the first place. Like her passion for justice, love gave her power and strength to carry out the necessary tasks, however grim and difficult they were.

Her sacrifice made Kyousuke's recital possible. Her sacrifice made Kyousuke happy.

"What a pathetic scene."

Sayaka's eyes snapped open as the voice struck her like a hammer to the back. Kyouko was chewing on a piece of beef jerky as she leaned against the lamp post, staring at Sayaka with disdain.

"It's that boy, ain't it? The one ya wasted yer wish on." Kyouko tore another chunk of jerky from the large piece in her hand. She never took her eyes off of Sayaka; she was a predator, and Sayaka was the tasty morsel that would become her dinner.

"What about it?" Sayaka would not go down easily. Even though Kyubey's verdict was that she would definitely lose to Kyouko in a one-on-one fight, she would make Kyouko pay dearly for her callous disregard for life.

"Ya dumbass." Kyouko sighed, swallowing the jerky with a gulp. "Ya know, wishes are supposed to be one hundred per cent for yerself, 'cause it just ain't worth the trouble. Trust me, I know."

"I am happy!" Yes, Sayaka was happy. Being able to listen to Kyousuke's music and see his smile was all that mattered to her; she was undoubtedly happy about it.

"Stop deceivin' yerself." Kyouko thrust a dagger through Sayaka's heart with her words. "Ya tellin' me that dawdlin' around and twiddlin' yer tits outside his house makes ya happy? Pathetic!"

"Shut up! Who the hell are you to judge me?" All the vulgarity aside, Kyouko was really getting on Sayaka's nerves. What did she know about the bond between them? What had he experienced to invalidate all that Sayaka wanted? But somehow, deep down, Sayaka knew Kyouko was right; the throbbing ache in her chest confirmed that.

"Ya ain't foolin' nobody but yerself, kid." Kyouko stuffed the last bit of her beef jerky into her mouth. "Ya know what ya could've used yer wish for? If ya really are head over heels for dat bastard, ya should've wished for him instead! Ya know, wish for him to be yours to do as you see fit, and y'all'd live happily ever after! Or, y'know, just break his damn hands and legs! Then he'll rely on ya forever! Ain't dat nice?"

"I'm not as selfish as you are!"

"Ain't that right. Ain't that right." Kyouko exclaimed, "But that's what ya wanted, ain't it? Get off that high and mighty horse ya got in yer ass and admit it already, kid; what ya really wanted is him, and ya ain't doin' nothin' but just cheatin' yerself."

"Such anger. Such rage. Such hatred. These are the emotions that make you strong, Miki Sayaka; these fit you like gloves." The voice commented with some glee, but Sayaka did not care.

"Shut the fuck up!" Sayaka almost screamed at the top of her lungs as she simultaneously scolded the voice in her head. Her chest was heaving up and down, her face hot and flushed with blood. "Who the fuck are you to judge me?"

"Hoh, so yer questionin' me, rat. Ain't that a nice turn around." The sarcasm was dripping from Kyouko's voice. She lightly clapped her hands to remove the dust of spices from her hand, and then slid out a biscuit stick from the box that she carried with her. "That ain't no way to talk to yer superiors, ya filthy whore."

"Suppressing your emotions is futile. Let them out. Spill her blood. It'll make you feel a lot better." Sayaka's hands clenched into fists as she gritted her teeth. Her body screamed for her to just pounce Kyouko and lay down a severe beating for what she had said; but her rationality—what was left of it—was also screaming for restraint.

Laying down the hurt in front of Kyousuke's house was obviously unwise; setting aside the trouble of explaining the entire Magical Girl business to him, if the commotion caused him to witness their fight, what would he think of her? He must think of her as a violent, deranged woman! Besides, what if their fight would endanger Kyousuke or his home? He would then be mad at her and, regardless of her feelings toward him, hate her.

It was not something that she wanted. It was not something that she desired. "You looking for a fight? You got a fight, but not here." Sayaka answered, her voice trembling with rage.

"Fine. This ain't the place I wanna fight, either." Kyouko stood up straight and stretched, loosening her stiff shoulders with a few good movements, "Let's go somewhere quiet, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Hitomi bent over the gold-gilded marble countertop as she splashed her face with cold water in the bathroom. The Kamijou residence was larger than she had imagined. Their family was better endowed than hers: they could afford to hire more maids and butlers, and their house was more spacious.<p>

Somehow, the display of wealth only disgusted Hitomi. Wealth alone did not define a man, nor did anyone stay happy by letting wealth dominate their lives. But she knew that Kyousuke was different; the love for music in his heart was genuine, and he had displayed it well with his music.

She leaned on the tiled wall and rubbed her face, not even bothering to wipe the water off of her skin. The more time she spent with Kyousuke, the harder it was to resist his charms. There was something hypnotic about his qualities; the smell when she entered his room—the smell of him—was heady enough that she almost lost her balance. She was drunk with his scent until he tried to touch her; it was only through sheer force of will did she recover from her trance.

She should stop seeing him; Hitomi decided with a long sigh. Her chest tightened at that thought, however. There was no mistake: she was helplessly in love with him, even when she knew that such a result would be fatal for all of them.

The evening wind brought some fresh air into the stuffy washroom. She did not want to leave yet. Her reservoir of willpower had not been refilled; returning to Kyousuke at that time would only make matters worse. Even if she had enough willpower to resist him that day, simply meeting him had been taxing her greatly. It could not go on for much longer before she would disregard all consequences and embrace him with open arms. She needed to make up her mind before she lost her power of self-determination like Sayaka had.

"Shut the fuck up! Who the fuck are you to judge me?"

A loud scream pierced the silence of the night and hit Hitomi squarely in her ears. It was Sayaka's voice, she recognized; her blue-haired friend was right outside the Kamijou mansion.

What was she doing here? Could it be that she visited the hospital and, failing to find Kyousuke, came to his place? Did she intend to come in? What if she saw Hitomi? Had she seen Hitomi? Had she found out what Kyousuke was trying to do?

Hitomi panicked. Her attempts to slow her breathing only caused her to hyperventilate more; her hands trembled as they groped around the wall, trying to support her weight along with her failing legs, from which all strength was sapped. Having Sayaka here while Hitomi was in the mansion was one of the worst-case scenarios that Hitomi had imagined. She needed a way out of this, and fast.

Calm down, me! Hold your damn horses! Hitomi almost yelled to herself as she slid down to the floor. Sayaka appeared to be arguing with someone outside. She quickly popped her head out of the window and looked at where the voice came from. Sure enough, there was a person—someone with a head full of flowing crimson—leaning against the streetlight.

It was the girl from the other day; Hitomi recognized not only the hair, but also the posture and the attitude in that girl. It was Sakura Kyouko. Fortunately, Sayaka had her back turned toward the mansion, so she did not see Hitomi's face. But Kyouko did; there was a knowing smile on her face, even though the red-haired Magical Girl spared no glance at Hitomi.

"Hoh, so yer questionin' me, rat. Ain't that a nice turn around. That ain't no way to talk to yer superiors, ya filthy whore." The night was quiet; she could hear their conversation quite clearly even from a long distance away. It was no surprise to Hitomi that Kyouko had always had a foul mouth. It was surprising, though, that Kyouko would find Sayaka on her own; Hitomi thought that Homura had already reached a deal with Kyouko to leave Sayaka to her.

Unless she was deliberately trying to break that deal, Hitomi saw no reason for Kyouko to intervene, as it provided no tangible benefits for her. It was all the more fortunate for her, though; if it were not for Kyouko's involvement, Sayaka could very well be inside the Kamijou mansion at the moment, and the "relationship" between her and Kyousuke would be exposed.

"You looking for a fight? You got a fight, but not here."

"Fine. This ain't the place I wanna fight, either. Let's go somewhere quiet, shall we?"

It seemed that they had decided on settling their differences through more violence. How typical of Sayaka; Hitomi scoffed with a bitter smile. She did not want to see anyone dead: Homura's plan was the best shot at getting everyone through all this, and for her plan to truly bear fruit, every Magical Girl—Mami, Kyouko and Sayaka—must stay alive.

She removed a tiny bead from her pocket. It was unpainted metal grey, and a stylized letter I was carved on it like Kane's seal. It was a vox bead, something that Kane had left her the last time they met. By simply putting it inside her ear and tapping her temple twice in rapid succession, she could activate it and communicate with Kane at will.

The bead fit snugly in her ear canal and lodged itself there. The unnatural feeling of the sound from her right side being muffled only lasted a couple of seconds, before the vox bead compensated for its existence. She tapped her temple twice, and the bead chirped. It was as if she was listening to herself chirp, as not only her eardrums had received the noise, but also her skull bones were vibrating with the bead.

"Mr. Kane," She called out. "Mr. Kane, can you hear me?"

"I read you loud and clear, Shizuki Hitomi. What do you need?" Kane's voice was gruff as ever, but somehow Hitomi found comfort and solace in his booming baritone.

"Kyouko and Sayaka just made contact with each other again, and they were about to start a fight." She almost whispered; there was no telling if someone would be listening outside the bathroom.

"I shall make my way to you immediately, and I shall also alert Lady Akemi."

"You know where I am?"

"I may track you with your vox bead."

Hitomi breathed a sigh of relief. As long as she wore that vox bead, the Inquisitor would have her location at all times; that meant that he could find her wherever she was, and he could come to her rescue if and when she would be in danger. "Thanks. I'll follow them the best I can."

"That would be a prudent course of action."

She smiled. Terse and detached as the reply was, it was Kane's way of praising her: "Be careful out there." She had no idea what made her say that, but she was somehow glad that she did.

"The Emperor protects; Kane out." Another two taps to her temple severed the connection. Hitomi quickly exited the washroom and asked for her belongings from a maid, which were quickly brought to her, along with Kyousuke.

"We are not yet done with our session, Hitomi." Both his voice and his manner of addressing her disgusted Hitomi, but dealing with him was an unpleasant necessity, one that she hoped would not last too long.

"I really have to go. Something suddenly came up and I need to deal with it right away. I'll make it up to you later." Without even waiting for a reply, quick dash she ran out of the mansion and past the slowly opening iron trellis gate with a quick dash. She could still keep both Sayaka and Kyouko in her sights, to her great relief.

As long as she kept visual contact with them, she could tail them to wherever they were heading, and hopefully prevent them from killing each other.

* * *

><p>Azrael let out a quiet breath as he squatted on top of a street lamp. Below him, the red-haired and the blue-haired <em>mon-keigh<em> were walking on opposite sides of the road, keeping visual contact with each other while heading to some unknown destination. Behind the blue-haired creature, the green-haired _mon-keigh_ stalked with the typical clumsiness of these ungraceful beasts.

"Would you stop referring to us in such a degrading manner?" Mami protested.

"I refer to you as I see fit." Azrael seethed. It was apparently insufficient penance for the Far Seer to torture him with the visions; she just had to add such a pestilence upon his mind. To up the ante even further, now that this… creature had occupied his Waystone, his soul would be claimed by the Great Enemy should he fall in battle. The situation was so absurd, that Azrael suspected that somehow the Laughing God had chosen him to be his Plaything of the Century.

"I could hear your thoughts, you know." Mami pouted again. Azrael's eyes let out a burst of golden light; she then had access to his vision.

"And I prefer you not share yours." Azrael retorted coldly in his mind. Thankfully, Mami remained silent after the retort, and he could finally concentrate on observing the creatures below. There existed painfully apparent hostilities between the red-haired and the blue-haired _mon-keigh_. The green-haired one, on the other hand, was simply trying to stay out of the other two's sight, as if she was stalking them.

Azrael knew the association between the Inquisitor and the green-haired female. If it was following the other two, the Inquisitor must not be far away. Good, he thought; it would be another chance for him to take a shot and end that pain in his behind for good.

"You must not." Far Seer Kirahla's voice accompanied a chill travelling up his spine. Azrael knew that the Far Seer had been working toward far larger goals than the simple success of this mission, but such knowledge did not make his job more pleasant, nor did it make him like her. "If you open fire on him, you endanger my plan, and—"

"And your plan is the best chance to save our Craftworld and our race. I have heard your speech enough times that I could do it backwards." Azrael's frustration coaxed a giggle out of Mami, to his great annoyance.

"If you do not wish to hear my 'speech' further, Pathfinder, should you not refrain from having such thoughts?" The Far Seer quipped, and Azrael almost wanted to shoot himself. It was bad enough having a _mon-keigh_ taking up place in his Waystone so that his soul would be damned forever; having both the _mon-keigh_ and the Far Seer wisecracking and laughing at him was almost too much.

"What exactly am I supposed to do here, then, Far Seer, other than observation?" Azrael caressed his rifle; he kept it in case of emergencies and, with his normal rifle destroyed, he had to resort using this less-reliable long rifle that he used since he started on the Path of the Outcast.

"We want to ensure the safety of everyone involved. This includes Sakura Kyouko, Miki Sayaka and Shizuki Hitomi, along with any other person that would meet with them tonight." The Far Seer bothered to refer to those beasts by name; Azrael scoffed.

"Maybe if you start calling us by name instead of 'monkeys', you wouldn't think of us as animals." Mami followed up with her point.

"It'll make butchering your misbegotten kind slightly less pleasurable than it should be." Azrael retorted, as his body subconsciously hopped from lamp post to lamp post, always keeping his targets in sight.

"Maybe I should just start calling you 'space elves' instead. Or, you know, 'daemon food;' you like that better?"

"Do not push your luck, creature, or I shall—"

"Stop it, both of you." Far Seer Kirahla sighed after letting the warning resonate inside Azrael's skull. Perhaps having him as a carrier for Mami's soul was not the smartest idea. "All the players are on stage."

Sure enough, as Azrael glanced down, every single creature involved in the event was there; blue, red, green, pink, and black-haired females formed a congregation on the crosswalk bridge above the highway, along with the white rat.

"I still don't understand why Kyubey would plant daemons in our minds." Mami softly spoke.

"You creatures are so gullible as to not ask any questions when selling your soul." Azrael replied with a snort.

"It's not like I had any choice! It was either that or die!"

"You should prefer dying; it leaves the universe a better place."

"Enough is enough, Azrael. Do not test my patience." Azrael could feel a sharp burst of pain shooting up along his spine into his brain. It was the Far Seer's idea of a "warning", and though extremely unpleasant, Azrael had to endure, lest he broke his shroud.

"Still, this means that there were daemons in Sayaka, Kyouko and even Homura's Soul Gems?" Mami continued, seemingly letting the quarrel between them slide.

"Yes, though I am not yet certain about Akemi Homura. A probe is necessary." The Far Seer responded. Azrael could feel a sliver of her power extending every so imperceptibly toward the black-haired female with him acting as a conduit. He extended his left hand, and the power manifested in a wispy thin white trail, terminating about five feet away from her finger.

And then, the trail turned golden and abruptly disappeared.

"The presence inside her was certainly ancient, and I have never witnessed such power, even within daemonkind." The Far Seer was audibly humbled and shaken; evidently, she had made contact with the being residing inside the black-haired female's soul.

"What in these creatures could possibly be ancient to our kind?" Azrael scoffed. Truly, _mon-keighs_ were fickle beings, living and dying by droves while the Eldar endured. Perhaps their gnat-like life spans would explain their immaturity; certainly, it demonstrated their inferiority.

"The presence in there could possibly obliterate our entire Craftworld if he were at the zenith of his power." The Far Seer whispered in Azrael's mind, and he almost fell off of the lamp post. "His power could be on par with the Chaos gods themselves. And he is aware of our presence."

"So, he is the corpse King of the _mon-keigh_?"

"That is the most likely possibility, given how he did not bother to consume my soul." Azrael sighed at the Far Seer's confirmation. Even if the visions told of a twin-headed Aquila—the symbol of the _mon-keigh_ empire—he never imagined that it would be the actual ruler, the one that these creatures revere as their "god". But then again, nothing would sincerely surprise him any more after what he had seen in the visions.

The thought of shooting him and taking out the _mon-keigh_'s singular chance for survival briefly crossed Azrael's mind, before he reluctantly banished it. The central tenet of Kirahla's plan was to keep the _mon-keigh_ king alive. Though a united Imperium of Man would resort to hunt them down without mercy, they could evade the clumsy and imperceptive fools with their wit and agility, and humans had—time and again—proven their value as proxy forces when fighting the Great Enemy, the Orks, the Tyranids, and the Necrons.

If the Imperium was to fall apart, however, the chance of survival for the Eldar would be dramatically reduced. Without the Imperium of Man, the Eldar may as well paint a target on their foreheads. The Great Enemy would come at them in full force; the Orks would threaten their Maiden worlds and Exodite worlds; the Craftworlds would have to fight the Tyranids more often and more directly; and at the end, the Necrons would exterminate everyone.

No, Azrael concluded much to his chagrin; even though he had that impulse and the means to terminate the _mon-keigh_ King once and for all, and even though this was the best chance to decapitate and destroy the _mon-keigh_ empire, doing so would certainly bring apocalypse onto the Eldar.

"So, what are our plans?" Mami broke the silence.

"Observe first. I do not believe the rest of them are as of yet aware of our presence." The Far Seer answered, again tapping into Azrael's sight and hearing, "At the appropriate time, we shall make our approach."

* * *

><p>"The Eldar had made psychic contact with me." He said quietly as Homura made another leap from the top of a large cargo truck to the top of a sedan. Traffic froze under her feet; the world was bathed in greyscale, as though colors no longer existed. "They're watching us."<p>

"We have much more immediate concerns than the aliens." Homura panted as the world regain its color. The wind immediately forced her to go prone; humans were not meant to travel at over a hundred kilometers per hour on top of a trailer truck. "I need to get her Soul Gem back."

The gem reflected a faint blue light from the street lights. It lay quietly on top of another trailer truck to the right in front of Homura, hopping and bouncing around as the truck moved on the road. Although crucial to a Magical Girl's survival, these Soul Gems were incredibly fragile; so fragile, in fact, that dropping them from excessive height would shatter them.

It was sheer luck that Sayaka's Soul Gem did not break. Madoka tossed it off the bridge with all her might and without looking at where she threw it. If it had landed on the road, it would have been shattered. If it were not shattered when it landed on the road, it would have been shattered as soon as a car rolled over it.

"She should be glad she's still alive after all this." Homura muttered as the world again lost its color. The shield on her right hand creaked under the strain of her ability, as the two violet gems shone with faint light.

"You can hardly consider that she was still alive." The voice mused.

"We're all in the same boat; you, me, and Sayaka. Take what you get, old man." Homura smirked as she felt that He was slightly taken aback by how she referred to him. "Besides, immortality and eternal youth are convenient."

"It comes with its own burdens." He said with a wispy voice.

The world once again regained its color, and Homura was but one vehicle away from reaching the gem. She could barely remain steady on top of a smaller truck, whose blazing speed was catching up to her target.

"It isn't your time yet, like how it isn't my time to give up." Homura made an effort to stand up. The wind blasted her frail body, throwing her hair around like they were violent whips. She restrained her unruly hair behind her neck with one of her hand, all the while keeping her eyes on the gem.

"That is one way of looking at it." His chuckle rumbled in Homura's mind as the world stood still. Homura made a leap onto the truck, and quickly picked up Sayaka's Soul Gem.

The gem itself was slightly clouded with the taint, so much that Homura could make out slivers and tendrils of smoky black inside the azure: "She's succumbing faster than I imagined."

"Indeed." He reached the same conclusion. "At this rate, her downfall would approach quickly."

"I could defeat Oktavia with the weapons your servants supplied." Homura gripped Sayaka's Soul Gem tightly with her hand as she made a hop back against the flow of traffic. "I never expected her to be of much use to us anyway in the final battle."

"With the arrival of external forces, events should no longer be as predictable as you know." He cautioned. "Shizuki Hitomi's involvement was a solid proof of that."

"We can always play along as things evolve." Homura nodded before freezing the world under her power once more. With a leap, she landed on the ground behind the last truck in front of the bridge, and climbed on top of the truck. She then grappled onto the side rails of the bridge, and climbed on top of it, before the world returned to its original coloration and everyone started moving again.

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane watched the drama unfold as he stood concealed from the Magical Girls. Lady Akemi's assessment was accurate. The truth—even one of the smallest fragments of it—was extremely difficult to take for Kaname Madoka, and even Sakura Kyouko, as the screaming, swearing and sobbing had demonstrated.<p>

It was difficult for him to observe these Magical Girls. The existence of the Incubators, and knowing that they had been secretly implanted with the seed of a daemon was heresy grave enough to have this planet cleansed with Exterminatus. Lady Akemi was adamant that her plan could save all of them, however, and her word was law.

Still, the Inquisitor himself could not hide his disgust. These creatures had already been tainted; not a surprise, given how the planet was embedded in the eye of a Warp Storm that had, according to what the _Invicta_ could glean, been churning for millennia. His purity was in danger simply being around them; maybe one of these daemonlings would find his soul more enticing than the girls, and strive to possess him instead.

He must suppress these thoughts; Kane cleared his mind along with his throat. He was dedicated to the God Emperor as the rest of the Inquisition, and if His will was to spare these wretches from extermination, then he must carry out His will as His loyal servant.

To that end, he had been quietly contemplating a negotiation with the surviving Eldar. The Incubators were producing Soul Gems with functionality much like the stones the Eldar possessed. Were the two species connected somehow? Could they be working together against the Imperium?

Sadly, he was not an Ordo Xenos researcher, nor did he have access to that Ordo's archives; his specialty was in daemons and Chaos, not the Xenos. Still, with the information at hand, Kane could safely exclude that possibility. The Craftworld Eldar was known to be unrelentingly aggressive toward daemonkind; there were known instances of Imperial forces and the Craftworld Eldars collaborating in uneasy alliances against Chaos and the Traitors. If the Incubators were indeed working with the Craftworld Eldar, it must be for a reason Kane could not fathom, for the Incubators were strengthening the Warp with their every move.

The presence of an Eldar psychic signature was proof enough against that theory. It had been sitting on top of a lamp post and observing the drama in much the same way as the Inquisitor. It must be safe, then, to say that the Eldar had as much clue to the events as the Inquisitor before Lady Akemi enlightened him; they needed to figure out what exactly was happening before they make a move.

It was best to keep the status quo; Kane smirked as he turned around. Lady Akemi had returned with Miki Sayaka's tainted Soul Gem, and the situation was temporarily under control.

Kane took inventory of his own forces. There was precious little that he could do with a squad of Black Templars and a regiment of Imperial Guard in the face of a greater daemon, and the _Invicta_ would probably cause more collateral damage than Lady Akemi would permit. If he needed to fight one as Lady Akemi had foretold, the Eldar—even though severely weakened to the point that less than a handful of them escaped the carnage—would be invaluable allies.

He turned and stared directly at the Eldar on the lamp post, which turned to meet his gaze. This was neither the time nor the place for a confrontation, and the Eldar seemed to agree: the creature made neither gestures nor noise, and simply slipped away into the shadows.

He had no concerns about the Black Templars. They were trained to obey orders, especially when they were attached to an Inquisitor. Though overly zealous, they would be useful when the time comes to combat the greater daemon. The problem was mainly keeping them in check; if even Kane himself had problems with staying around the tainted Magical Girls, Dividus and his squad would be on a roaring rampage of redemption, killing everyone in their sight.

Lady Akemi, and consequently He, would never allow that to happen, and Kane must do his best not to disappoint them; he thought as Hitomi approached him. The scene was over; Hitomi was escorting Madoka, who was too emotionally unstable to even walk.

"I need to talk to you later." Hitomi psychically chimed to the Inquisitor. He gave a mental nod to her, and melded into the shadows.

* * *

><p>Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed leaned over the digital sandbox in his underground bunker. Around him, his aides and staff scurried about, carrying stacks of documents. His color sergeant and closest friend, Jarran Kell, stood beside him at ready, his bolt pistol and power sword hanging from his hips.<p>

The situation was a lot grimmer than even the worst news that the Administratum would let out. Even though the Imperium's propaganda machine depicted him as a miraculously brilliant commander, able to seemingly conjure up troops out of nowhere to crush the Traitors, he himself knew the truth.

Cadia would have fallen if not for Admiral Quarren's naval support. The Imperium was throwing manpower and resources at Cadia like water down a bottomless drain. It was the only planet that kept Abaddon from pushing toward Holy Terra. As a result, even though the planet was within range of the Planet Killer, it was safe: Cadia was simply too strategically important for Abaddon to blow up into an asteroid field.

That did not mean Abaddon was powerless, however. Every day, stacks and heaps of casualty reports were presented to Creed, and he would then dismiss them without even turning a page. Entire regiments were being wiped out every day. Coordinating with the Astartes was even harder; the Space Marines often sent themselves into suicidal charges for "honor" and "glory", leaving their support elements behind.

Creed dreamt of neither honor nor glory. The entire frontline had become a giant meat grinder, and each day countless lives were fed to it. Even with the Imperium's manpower and production capabilities, Creed knew that if the status quo were maintained, the front line would one day collapse.

Another blip disappeared from the digital sandbox. A Baneblade—one so new that it had not yet been named—had been destroyed. Armor was not something that he sorely needed; Titans and super heavy vehicles were simply sitting ducks inside dense Cadian Kasrs, as the Traitor Legions had demonstrated; he still had enough armor to mount a massive counterattack against Chaos in the open, but he knew that eventually what ground he would gain would be lost again. What he needed was ammunition—vast quantities of it—and an effective way to distribute them throughout the front; the Kasrs, with death pouring out from each window and each door, were the only thing that slowed Chaos' advance, and without power packs or bolts, they would be the powerless ones instead.

"Lord Castellan, I have an urgent communication from Lord Admiral Quarren." A child—too young to join even the Whiteshields—reported to him. Creed turned his head and looked at the fresh face, which cringed under his icy glare. He had already sent every good man and woman he could spare to the front lines, his reserves being replenished by Guard regiments arriving each day through the naval route. Children were crewing manufactori, carrying and transporting supplies, and the more literate ones like him were managing communication.

"Here." He extended one of his massive hands, and the child put a handheld vox transmitter into it with his laughably small hands. "This is Creed, Admiral."

"Lord Castellan." Admiral Quarren's gruff voice came through with some crackle. Creed could hear the fatigue in his voice. The Admiral, too, had been fighting tooth and nail to keep the naval shipping channel open throughout the campaign, but even his tactical genius had its limits. As ships get destroyed and as their numbers dwindled, even Quarren must eventually give up on the shipping lane.

"What is it you wish to discuss? I have a war to win."

"Abaddon's fleet is pulling back."

The news struck Creed like a thunderbolt. Abaddon's fleet had more than enough firepower to maintain the status quo with Quarren, but he chose to pull back? What was going on? "Are you certain it was not a tactical retreat?"

"I'm certain, Lord Castellan." Quarren affirmed his statement, "It was not a tactical retreat. The Planet Killer and its escorts just entered the Warp, and more ships are following. My Astropaths could not ascertain their heading."

"What are you doing about it?" There were not many things in the galaxy that could make Abaddon abandon Cadia, seeing how he almost had it within his grasp. Thirteen Black Crusades later he finally got a chance of securing Cadia; there was no way that he would terminate his conquest now.

"I'm picking off their rearguard and advancing slowly. They may have laid traps for us."

Before Creed had a chance to respond, Jarran peered at the sandbox and yelled: "Lord Castellan, they're retreating! They're retreating!"

"HUZZAH!" The room was wrapped in silence for a minute, before hysterical cheers erupted. Creed quickly leaned over the digital sandbox again, and zoomed out to the planet level. Auspex metrics combined with the fleet sensor net colored the planet into distinct shades, and the red zone—the part where the Traitors had claimed—was steadily receding.

"By the Emperor…" Creed breathed, and a vicious smile broke from his tightly pursed lips. It was a simultaneous retreat. Not only were the Traitors abandoning the naval war, they were also abandoning the considerable ground they gained on Cadia. Abaddon really was retreating!

"Milord, the men are asking for orders!" Another child came to him and stood at attention. It was then that Creed noticed the clamor seeping through the door from the Comms room. He slowly patted the child on his head, before issuing his orders:

"All Imperial elements are to cautiously advance. I want every square inch of this planet cleansed thoroughly. All Imperial artillery elements are weapons free on the retreating enemy. They are not to cease fire for any reason; I want them pound the enemy to dust and ashes. To that end, the logistics subdivision shall prioritize supplying shells to the Artillery Corps; I want the warehouses empty by the time those damned heretics disappear from the planet. Inform all Inquisitorial elements, as well as all Adeptus Astartes elements of my decision." The boy grinned before snapping to attention again, his chest brimming with pride; with a perfect about face, he sprinted to the communication room to relay the orders.

"Admiral, please contact Imperial elements in nearby sectors and systems, and figure out what they're doing." Creed sank into his chair. If this retreat was truly a systematic and strategic decision, then all Chaos forces—not just the ones in and around Cadia—would be in full retreat. If that was indeed the case, then the Thirteenth Black Crusade would be over.

"You think it's strange too, Lord Castellan?" Quarren chimed, and Creed grunted. There was simply no reason for Chaos to just turn around and run. They had a very much real chance at breaking through the Imperial defense and advance straight toward Terra.

Why, then, were they running? Was it because the traitors turned on each other? Was it because the foul daemons that commanded Abaddon changed their ideas? Or was it because of something much more sinister?

"We need to find out where they're going, Admiral." Creed muttered slowly, "We need to find the one place in the galaxy that is more important than Terra for them."


	15. XIV

**XIV: Can You Come to Terms with How You Really Feel?**

* * *

><p>Hitomi quietly fidgeted in her seat. Homura's house was unsettling to her, to say the least; it was way too empty—too devoid of life—for such a large house, and the decorations only emphasized the point. The walls were impossibly clean and white; the kitchen so clean and unused that it was almost as if no living creature resided in the house.<p>

Except that there were a squad of Guardsmen there, quietly working with various types of weapons and ammunition. Hitomi sat on the edge of the sofa as some of them frequently tossed glances at her, especially the younger-looking ones. Even if she could not understand their speech, which sounded like crude Latin, she knew their intent; they were checking her out and evaluating her as a potential romantic interest. She was flattered, but not by much; it was not uncommon that men would look at her that way. The objectification was both satisfying and irritating at the same time.

Kane was taking care of some issues with the _Invicta_. Apparently, they were going to attempt to make contact with "Segmentum command" in the near future. As Hitomi understood it, the might of the Imperium was cut off from the planet because there was a "warp storm" around the planet.

From her perspective, nothing was strange. The sky did not glow purple; the stars' shimmering was only a simple trick the atmosphere played on her eyes. She still did not understand much about where Kane and these Guardsmen came from, and little still about the universe, but she had already involved herself deeply with the insanity.

"So, what do you wish to discuss?" Kane's baritone rumbled in Hitomi's skull as High Gothic reached her ears. If only she could understand High Gothic, this dissonant discomfort would no longer be necessary; Hitomi sighed.

"I… I need your help." She whispered. She had nowhere to turn. The time spent with Kamijou was starting to wear on her will. Everything about him was enchanting: his eyes were hypnotic, his words were inebriating, his smell was intoxicating, and even his touch was enthralling. She had succeeded in resisting his charms for now, but just barely. Icy water splashed on her face used to be effective in renewing her strength of will, but she had found its effectiveness diminishing by the hour; the longer she was with him, the harder it was to resist him.

"To deal with Kamijou?" Kane continued, much to Hitomi's surprise. He folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. "Your distress was apparent in your voice and your thoughts."

"If you could read my mind, why don't you just tell me what to do?" Hitomi was more than a little annoyed. To her, the Inquisitor had a bad habit of being cryptic and indirect about things, yet at the same time he loved poking around other people's heads. Case in point, the unsanctioned telepathic probe against her mind was incredibly irritating.

"There is precious little that you _can_ do, Shizuki Hitomi, though I have to admit that your tenacity is remarkable for a psyker." Kane chuckled at Hitomi's frustration, as if he found it amusing. "If you do survive this ordeal, perhaps I shall consider making you my apprentice."

"That's if you survive too. I wouldn't be so sure about that." Hitomi retorted with a smirk, earning another heart-felt chuckle from Kane.

"Breaking off contact with him is the only way." Kane returned to his serious expression.

"Not an option." Hitomi rejected with a wave of her hand. She could still influence Kamijou and bend him in Sayaka's direction. And if Kamijou reciprocated Sayaka's feelings, perhaps Sayaka would stay sane until Walpurgisnacht's appearance.

"Are you sure you want to go that far for your 'friend' who may not even appreciate what you do?" Kane inquired with a piercing question, "You are paying the consequences for her heresy."

"That's what friends and family are for, isn't it?" Hitomi smiled and lay back a little, while the glint in Kane's eyes darkened somewhat. Did she bring up an unpleasant memory in him? She could only speculate.

"This is my last warning. If you become tainted, I will have no other choice but to put you down."

"That figures. I thought, why don't I spare you the trouble of shooting me, and me the trouble of eating a bullet in the face, by asking for your help?"

"Very well, then." Kane let out a heavy sigh and drew a small metallic gray cube from one of his satchels, before handing it to Hitomi.

"What is this?" It was a delicate cube about an inch in size, but it was as heavy as such small objects could go. Etched on each of its face was a small but ornate letter "I" with a skull embedded on it, just like the Inquisitor's Rosario. Hitomi strained her eyes, and saw the small flakes of dried blood that stained the side of the cube.

"It is an Excruciator." The Inquisitor stated. Every hint of a smile had vanished from his face. "It is a device I used to extract the truth in my interrogations."

He tortured people; Hitomi immediately made the connection, even though Kane never explicitly stated it. The realization made her squeamish; she quickly put the small cube on the tea table, and dared not touch it.

"Your problem can only be solved with either unwavering devotion to the God Emperor, or through pain."

"How does pain solve my problem?" Devoting herself to this "God Emperor" was like giving herself over fully to some celestial being that Hitomi had no proof of even existing, much less for Hitomi to actually have faith.

"Pain purifies the body and cleanses the mind. It is the most effective way to snap yourself out of a trance, especially a trance induced by that boy." The Inquisitor picked up the small cube and gently placed it on Hitomi's hand, "Primarch Rogal Dorn wore the Pain Glove in his meditations. I believe that it may achieve a similar effect here. But I must caution you, Shizuki Hitomi. The pain inflicted by the Excruciator is debilitating. It will be more painful than your worst nightmare. I still stand by my opinion that you should terminate contact with this Kamijou Kyousuke. Are you certain you wish to go through this ordeal?"

Hitomi swallowed hard. The most pain she had endured was accidentally cutting her fingers with a knife in cooking class, and she cried for a quarter of an hour until the wound was properly treated. Just how excruciating could the device be?

She feared pain. No one but the most severe of masochists liked pain; it was a natural reflex built into human physiology to avert dangers. Kamijou was a danger; if she fell to him, she would endanger all their lives, especially Sayaka's. If that came to pass, even if she had lived, Hitomi would never forgive herself, as she would have betrayed and indirectly murdered her friend. Besides, Homura had repeatedly stated that Sayaka's decay and final metamorphosis would harm many more innocent lives, and as such it must be delayed for as long as necessary.

On the other hand, she could simply walk away. Sayaka would be free to pursue Kamijou as she saw fit, and Hitomi would never be in danger of betraying her friend. As an added bonus, she would never have to endure Kamijou's seduction again. Better yet, she could simply forget about all this Magical Girl insanity and return to her normal life; she could live as if nothing had ever happened, as if Sayaka had never contracted, as if the cosmic horror stories that Homura had told and foretold were just figments of her imagination.

She bit her lips and rubbed her hands. They seemed unnaturally cold, and she shivered. She then closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her teeth; the cold air sent tingling pain from her gums. With a long exhale, she opened her eyes and picked up the small cube:

"Yeah, I'm sure. Teach me how to use it."

And the pain began.

* * *

><p>"ARGH!"<p>

The screaming never stopped as Sayaka rolled on the floor in agony. The revelation that Kyubey had turned her into an inhuman monster was bad enough. Sure, she was then immortal, but her soul was separated from her body. And the torture…

Kyubey rolled her Soul Gem under one of its front paws like a soccer ball. A slight squeeze from the damnable creature's paw convulsed Sayaka's body into fetal position, while uncontrollable spasms rocked her every muscle.

"Please… stop!" She begged between her heart-wrenching screams. She wished she would faint in the next second; the bliss of unconsciousness escaped her as another, even more intense shot of pain shocked her into almost biting her tongue. It felt like a hammer had struck between her legs; slack jawed, she could only gag as drool dripped out from her mouth.

"Pain is but an illusion, Miki Sayaka." The voice rang inside her head with a hint of glee, as Kyubey kicked Sayaka's Soul Gem around like a soccer ball.

The pain was plenty real to Sayaka, as her mind clawed for unconsciousness. An ethereal club struck her over the spine, and she could have sworn she heard a crack as the agony nearly made her faint. Unfortunately, it did not, and the next jolt came from a nonexistent knife in her kidney.

"GAH!" Sayaka's voice was hoarse from all the screaming, not that it did any good. No matter how loud she wailed, Kyubey's "education" was relentless.

"Normal humans would have fainted by now." And how Sayaka wished she did! If she were a normal human being instead of such an abomination, she would have had the blessing of unconsciousness fifteen minutes ago, just as Kyubey thrust an ethereal spear through her gut.

"You… tricked… us!" Sayaka squeezed the words between her teeth, as Kyubey just shot another dose of torment with an empyrean punch to the face.

"You wound me, Miki Sayaka." Kyubey finally stopped inflicting more anguish on Sayaka, sounding hurt. Sayaka gasped for breath and coughed; a rush of endorphin in her brain brought heavenly relief from every bit of her body as the torture halted. "You are the one who wished for a miracle in exchange for a fate of eternal combat. I merely enabled you to do so."

"Why did you… not tell us?" If she had known before she made the wish, she would have thought twice about it! Sayaka panted, some of her muscles still twitching.

"You did not ask." Kyubey's reply was innocent; so innocent, in fact, that Sayaka was sure that it was faked deliberately. "If you had inquired, I would have informed you."

"… You think… that I'm going to let it slide… just like that?" Sayaka slowly crawled up from the floor. The creature—the "rat", as Homura called it—deserved a thorough thrashing, at least, for turning her into an inhuman abomination. She would cut it apart slowly with a dull knife, one inch at a time, when it was tied on a stick over a crackling fire. It would bleed; oh yes, it would bleed profusely and beg her for mercy, but none should come as quickly as it would want. Instead, she would slowly peel off its furry skin, slowly carve each piece of its flesh from it, and just as slowly chew the flesh in front of the pathetic creature as it would watch in horror…

Sayaka suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Since when did she have such violent and gory thoughts in her mind? She had never seen much blood in her life before, and yet right then, she wanted to spill Kyubey's blood so badly that her hands started to twitch.

"Our god demands blood, Miki Sayaka."

"Did you have something to do with this?"

"Yes, and no." The voice rumbled again, its tone calm and collected. "The thirst for blood is in your nature, Miki Sayaka; it is in every sinew and every tendon of you. I merely nudged it forward a little."

"Change me back, damn it!" Sayaka wanted no part in this bizarre transformation. She only wanted Kyousuke to get better! She only wanted to make his life normal again! None of this was what she wanted; none of this was what she expected.

"Your anger is justified, yet directed at the wrong target." The voice replied in Sayaka's head, "It is not us who should receive your wrath. It is Kamijou Kyousuke who turned you into who you are today; it is Sakura Kyouko who challenged your righteous authority; and it is Akemi Homura who had denied you your divine right to happiness."

Sayaka never planned on sparing either Homura or Kyouko, anyway; they were scum and filth that must be exterminated from this world for Magical Girls to once again be the shields and guardians of humanity. Still, there was a pang of sorrow and sympathy in Sayaka for them; they were turned into the same inhuman monstrosity as Sayaka, over a wish that was probably not worth the price.

But Kyousuke, Sayaka could not bring herself to hate. Kyousuke was not the one at fault; he never told Sayaka to wish for his wellness. Sayaka traded her humanity for Kyousuke's happiness out of her own volition. There was simply no reason to hate him, much less dispense her righteous wrath on him: "No, not Kyousuke… I don't… hate him…"

The voice sighed: "I suppose I should thank him, too; if not for him, I would never have found you, Miki Sayaka. However, as I have said repeatedly before, love is a fickle thing that shall surely lead you to your ruin."

"SHUT UP!" Sayaka let out a roar. No, falling in love with Kyousuke was not a mistake! He was worth everything, everything that she had paid! His happiness _was_ her happiness! How could he not see that? "I'll do anything! Anything for him to be happy!"

"Very well then; I shall aid you in achieving that goal." The voice resigned.

She was too weak; Sayaka decided. She was too soft on Kyouko; if she had not hesitated, she would have had a chance in beating that red menace. Instead, Madoka made her realize the horrid truth: "Teach me! Teach me how to get stronger! Teach me how to protect us all!"

"Such zealotry; such passion. It suits you well, Miki Sayaka." The voice complimented. As if on cue, Kyubey stepped on Sayaka's Soul Gem again. Sayaka screamed as every inch of her body started to burn with ethereal fire. She could hear the fat below her skin starting to bubble and sizzle, her ears buzzing with the disgusting sounds of her flesh cooking in the fire and her nose picking up the sickening scent of searing grease.

"Your first lesson would be how to suppress and surpass pain. Learn it well, Miki Sayaka, future champion of the Blood God, for the universe shall burn with your coming."

* * *

><p>"Well, this is certainly unexpected." Hitomi whispered to herself as Kamijou Kyousuke took to the front of the class with his crutches.<p>

Behind her, Sayaka's seat was vacant. Hitomi was not surprised in the least by her absence after what transpired the day before; if even Hitomi would have to get some advice from Kane, Sayaka would be even harder pressed to deal with the mental trauma.

Speaking of which, there was not a single positive influence around Sayaka, now that she had shut herself off from Madoka as well. Hitomi was worried; if Sayaka kept allowing Kyubey to manipulate her, her damnation would come to pass earlier than even Homura would expect.

She glanced at Madoka, and from her grimace, it was apparent that Madoka did not anticipate the transfer of Kamijou, either. Homura already knew about the event based on her past experiences, as the ice queen had a layer of frost as her mask. Based on the attitudes Kyousuke had toward her, Hitomi was almost certain that Sayaka would have zero knowledge of his transfer.

This raised an interesting dilemma; Hitomi collected her thoughts again as time proceeded into lunch recess. Madoka was nowhere to be seen, as was Homura, who immediately departed the classroom after the class ended.

A blob of people, most of whom girls, had congregated around Kamijou when Hitomi finished her train of thought. The scent—_his_ musk—in the classroom had become so powerful that Hitomi felt her head spinning. She contemplated having lunch, but quickly abandoned that idea as her stomach churned.

She stumbled out of the classroom and headed straight for the nurse's office. Kamijou's scent permeated even the hallways, and soon Hitomi picked up several other scents similar to his. Even though they were from different people, the scents were such that Hitomi could barely restrain her urges when she barged into the nurse's office, only to find that the school nurse was the origin of one of those scents, as the office was reeking with it: primal, savage, and full of energy.

Just as quickly as she barged in, Hitomi backed out of the nurse's office like a frightened hare. Nowhere was safe from the predations of these creatures, not even in the nurse's office. The musky effluvium sent her mind spinning as her legs pumped against her instincts of just wanting to embrace and love Kamijou as much as she could. She ran as fast as she could along the hallway, not even paying heed to several students that she knocked down along the way, into the music room.

The situation here was a little better; Hitomi immediately opened every window she could find, and let outside air into the room to dilute the arousing scent. Her head cleared up a little as the scent gradually disappeared, though the disorientation still made her almost vomit. She was all but certain that Kamijou had been afflicted with some deadly disease like quite a few people on school grounds.

The situation was much bleaker than she had imagined. If many girls started showing interest in Kamijou and Kamijou decided to reciprocate those feelings—as surely there would be many who had weaker will than Hitomi had—Sayaka could very well turn into a Witch as soon as she returned to school.

Speaking of which, why was neither Homura nor Madoka affected? Almost every girl was fawning over Kamijou—almost including Hitomi herself—but Homura and Madoka seemed immune to his pheromones or his charms. How could they resist him when Hitomi almost fell prey to him?

Hitomi more or less could guess why Homura was unaffected. There was an incredibly ancient presence within her, one that Hitomi had only begun to sense recently. That presence, though not powerful in its own right, shone like a beacon to Hitomi's sixth sense, and always radiated a gentle warmth around Homura. Given how Magical Girls were formed, Hitomi was not surprised that Homura had taken on a different host "daemon", however inappropriate the word may be to describe it.

Madoka, on the other hand, was a more curious case; Hitomi slumped against the wall under the windows, letting the breeze blow right past her scalp. Homura had always stated that Madoka was special, that she was significant enough that the entire Imperial element—especially Homura—would not hesitate to sacrifice themselves to protect her. Perhaps natural resistance to such unnatural influences was one of the ways in which she was special; Hitomi surmised as the music room door creaked open.

Not only did the creaking interrupt her train of thought, it also struck fear into her heart, as Kamijou Kyousuke's profile emerged from the opening. He brought with him the thick aura of incredibly arousing male pheromone, so much so that Hitomi almost panicked.

"Ah, I knew I'd find you here." Kyousuke said as he approached, his voice ringing like a seraph's song and his crutches clicking monotonously. "Are you feeling well?"

Such pretentious kindness, grotesque in its shape yet strangely comforting; Hitomi almost took Kyousuke's extended hand, but what little sanity that remained in her brain screamed for her to stop. And, by some miracle, it worked: her hand stopped in mid-air before quickly retracting as if Kyousuke's hand was a molten brand.

But by then, that little corner of sanity had been almost eroded from her mind, as Hitomi unbuttoned the first and second button of her school shirt in delirium, overwhelmed with the desire to…

It was then that the cube she carried start to work by sending a jolt of unbearable pain into Hitomi's gut, as if someone had just jabbed a serrated sword through her abdomen and pulled it back and forth like a saw while twisting and turning it like a drill, churning her insides into a liquefied mess of flesh. The pain certainly cleared her mind as Hitomi bent over, her face hugging the cold tiles of the music room as her throat gurgled.

"Are you all right?" The pain finally subsided and a burst relief washed across Hitomi's body. The scent was still there, of course, but she had gained some mental clarity to maintain her sanity around Kyousuke.

"I'm… fine." She panted, as she slowly stood up. Her vision blurred for a second, and then she noticed half a dozen heads sticking out into the entrance, all of which belonged to females. Their stares burned with intense jealousy, such that they completely intimidated Hitomi.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Instead of fawning over me, you should go attend to your fan club over there." Somehow, Hitomi felt a lot better after spitting out those words. She was certain that she was a little jealous, too; some of those girls were beautiful even by adult standards. However, her sanity—her pain-induced clarity of focus—was enough to keep her desires from overwhelming her reasons, for now.

She quickly left the music room, leaving a transfixed Kyousuke standing in the music room like a small pillar. Her hours would only get longer from then on, being surrounded by this strong mix of pheromones, but she must endure.

And, with some help from Kane, she was confident that she could.

* * *

><p>Azrael squatted on top of a bench. It was dusk on the planet; the sun painted the sky a bloody orange as wisps of cloud slowly drifted around the endless dome. This world should have belonged to the Eldar. They have terraformed the world millennia ago, when the <em>mon-keigh<em> were naught but savages that had barely started their wretched civilization. They had every right to cleanse the planet's population and form a new Exodite world here.

But alas, that was not to come to pass, for the Webway gates that enabled them to emerge onto the planet was mysteriously powered down before their War Host could arrive in full force. The other two Webway gates were, similarly, nonfunctional; it left both Azrael and Kirahla stranded on the planet. Until they could find a functional Webway gate, they were on their own.

"Are you sure this would work?" Azrael questioned the Far Seer, who stood beside him in quiet meditation.

"As is foretold, yes." The reply was curt and short. Azrael had always thought the Far Seer insane, but her new plan took even the _mon-keigh_ girl in his mind by surprise.

Speaking of whom, that Mami could—with some assistance from the Far Seer—gain control of his body. He had allowed her to desecrate it for but a moment in order to write a note to that green-haired _mon-keigh_, but the development was unsettling to say the least. As the Far Seer had speculated, the two souls—Mami's, and his own—were slowly but surely mixing, like water and milk. Once the merger was complete, no one would be able to distinguish between two of them.

It horrified both Azrael and Mami. Mami was horrified because she had never wished for a male body; it was a trifle concern, one that suited her small mind all too well. Azrael, however, feared that Mami's presence would taint his soul forever, and make him unworthy of joining the Infinity Circuit. The Far Seer did her best to assuage their concerns, and both of them kept communication and sensory hijacking to a minimum, but it would only slow the process; not even the Far Seer knew how to stop it completely, or how to reverse the changes.

"You seem distracted." The Far Seer finally opened her eyes. The quiet park had no visitors as the street lamps turned themselves on. The heavens darkened, revealing small glittering lights pinned to the dark blue canvas like brilliant gems. The Warp Storm, somehow, did not obscure the night sky with its sickly magenta, being fickle and unruly as usual.

"I wonder which light our Craftworld is." Uncharacteristically, Azrael let out a sigh and dropped his cloak as he gazed at the sky.

"That's your home, isn't it?" Mami added with a wry smile.

Azrael nodded slowly. For once, he did not bother to retort with some witty yet insulting words: "Aye. It is home. It is what I would die for, yet my path forever forbids me from reuniting with it."

"Such sadness is unbecoming of you, Pathfinder." The Far Seer, too, dropped her cloak and sighed. Through the glowing orbs of her helm, Azrael could even find a hint of sympathy. "It is a weakness that even the _mon-keigh_ shares."

"We are not so different, after all." Mami whispered.

"That remains to be seen." Azrael spat. It was a transient moment of weakness and that was all there was to it; he convinced himself. Perhaps the merger of their souls meant that Mami also had some influence over his emotional state? How disgusting.

"Enough idle chatter." The Far Seer gestured, holding her Singing Spear with both her hands in an alarmed posture, "Our guest has arrived."

Azrael did not shoulder his rifle, for Kirahla had forbidden him to do so. From the darkness emerged two figures: one—who he assumed was the Inquisitor—was bulky, typical of the _mon-keigh_ King's servants; the other was slender with flowing water-green hair, looking much like a native of the planet. The parties maintained a healthy distance between each other; it was laughably short if the savages knew how far Kirahla could dash in a blink of an eye.

"Give me a reason I should not kill you on sight, barbarians." Azrael announced. It was always wise to apply some pressure before the start of a negotiation, even if that pressure was a simple bluff.

Inquisitor Kane simply scoffed: "Your cowardice stays your claws, Xeno."

Touché; Azrael's lips twitched into a grotesque smile. As quickly as he shouldered his rifle, the Inquisitor pulled out his bolt pistol; each man stared down the barrel of the other's weapon with neither any hint of fear nor the intention of backing down.

"Restrain yourself, Pathfinder." The shaft of the Singing Spear forcibly lowered the rifle in Azrael's hand, much to his dismay. "We are here to negotiate, not to start another ill-fated conflict."

"You manipulative Xeno bastards are too dependent on your sorceries." Kane, too, lowered his weapon as a gesture of good will. "Do not expect us to go along with your plan easily."

"That is why I—Far Seer Kirahla—am here to negotiate on behalf of my Craftworld of Alaitoc." Kirahla took off her helmet, and a waterfall of mercury silver formed a large cloak over the existing one behind her. The green-haired _mon-keigh_ seemed to be captured by the sight of the fair Kirahla; that was to be expected, thought Azrael as he scoffed.

"The fact of the matter is, the survival of your precious Imperium is at stake here, and you are woefully short handed." The Far Seer continued. She could not suppress a smile as the slightest twitch on Kane's face informed her that she had struck the mark. "As we are in the same situation, we propose a temporary alliance between our forces."

"The idea being that you could use us as your pawns, while we receive your help?" Kane chuckled, as though he was capable of being amused. "What, exactly, could you offer to this 'partnership'?"

Kirahla knew that the Inquisitor was keen on forming an alliance, despite the disdain in his voice. Preconceptions could be difficult to overcome, especially when such preconceptions had been conditioned in a population for millennia. Besides, even if the alliance catered to him specifically, he had to at least _appear_ defiant to appease his conscience. "You require discretion, and yet the only ones capable of not arousing suspicion is yourself. You need information, yet you have but three sources of intelligence, and your critical weakness—Akemi Homura—is all but known to the Great Enemy."

The name drop seemed to crack the mask of adamantine calm: "It is none of your business, Xeno filth. Lady Akemi is ours to protect, and if you even come anywhere near her…"

"Be at ease, Inquisitor, for we have neither the intention nor the capability of harming her." The Far Seer smiled as she tried to assuage that fear, irrational as it may be. "The survival of both our species is at stake, yet there remains more threats inside this city than you could possibly imagine. With this alliance, we could monitor the situation in tandem, and you could direct your attention elsewhere."

"… Very well." Elements of the Ordo Malleus had precedents of working with Xenos before, and especially the Eldar. The Inquisitor probably took that into account in his moments of silence before he uttered those words.

"Excellent." Kirahla lowered her Singing Spear, and Azrael slung his rifle on his back. "Before we depart, however, I have a word of warning for you, Inquisitor Gideon Kane of the Ordo Malleus."

"Speak then, Far Seer Kirahla of Alaitoc." The Inquisitor mirrored Kirahla's manner of address, which the Far Seer found amusing.

"The danger comes from within." And with that, both Eldar melded into the background.

"So… those were… aliens?" It took Hitomi several minutes before her normal brain function could resume. The Far Seer was impossibly beautiful; her skin was fair like porcelain, her hair a splashing waterfall of liquid mercury, and her entire being simply radiated exotic elegance like none that Hitomi had ever seen. The most beautiful models on fashion magazines were no match against the Far Seer, captivating and mesmerizing as she was.

"Their beauty belies their evil." Kane cautioned, leading Hitomi away from the deserted park. "It is because of their treachery and brutality that our God Emperor wished to see them extinct."

"They don't seem so treacherous to me." Hitomi may have been hypnotized by the Far Seer's looks, but she still had a vague memory of the discussion. The Far Seer, despite her otherworldly appearance, seemed genuine in her speeches as she had conveniently translated it through a telepathic link to Hitomi.

"You have not had the dealings with Xenos as we have. You do not yet know the depths of their deceit." Kane placed his hand on Hitomi's head and rubbed her hair, like a father caressing his child, "There is still much for you to learn, Shizuki Hitomi."

"What did she mean by 'the danger comes from within'?" Hitomi quietly whispered as she leaned closer to the Inquisitor. The warning was a cryptic message that could be interpreted many ways: it could refer to Sayaka's imminent fall; it could refer to Hitomi's wavering resolve; and yet, it could also indicate that there would be a traitor within their group.

"The Eldar love their obfuscated messages." Kane let out a long sigh and dismissed Hitomi's concerns with a wave. "Even when we ally with them, their words are not to be trusted. They will always have ulterior motives."

"Okay." Hitomi was not in a position to argue. She knew too little of the Eldars; in fact, it was the first time she had ever seen these creatures, in the flesh or otherwise. Still, to her, the Inquisitor seemed a little overzealous in his distrust toward the Far Seer; she seemed nice.

Then again, there were people in this world with terrible agendas that appeared to be nice on the surface, Hitomi reminded herself with a shudder.

* * *

><p>Homura leaned against the sturdy safety fencing around the roof's edges. The Inquisitor had struck a deal with the remaining Eldar forces on planet to perform a joint operation, even though he was somewhat reluctant to do so in the first place. Homura only gently nudged him in that direction, but it appeared to her that having her consent was all the authorization the Inquisitor ever needed.<p>

Obviously, the Inquisitor knew who resided inside her for the time being. For him to give such authority to Homura, whom he barely knew, simply because she was His host, was a little overwhelming to her: "Does everyone in the universe revere you so?"

"Not everyone, but most humans." The voice answered in His grizzled baritone, the buzz pleasantly echoing inside Homura's skull. "I am their god, the one who protects the faithful and smites down the heretics, the traitors, and the Xeno."

"Even though you've told me about this a long time ago, I still find it a little amazing after seeing how Kane bows to my every whim." Homura gazed at the sky, too blue and unmarred for her liking. "I mean, he even made coffee and cleaned the kitchen for me."

"Well, even though I am but a corpse on the Golden Throne, billions of people spend generations of lives to come and see the _gates_ of my palace. Often, a pilgrim who set off for Terra would see his great-great-grandson arrive on Terra and consequently die in the stampede to see the gates to the Imperial Palace." He was almost amused, and Homura found that almost revolting, "Such is the power of blind faith."

"It is not what you intended, is it?"

"Not at all; but my goals have changed while I was confined on that machine." He spoke slowly, turning Homura's attention to the entrance of the roof: "Enough about me; you do have a guest."

Madoka slowly emerged from the entrance, and shuffled in small steps toward Homura apprehensively. Homura, too, shifted uncomfortably toward Madoka.

"She has questions." He commented, as Madoka greeted Homura with a weak smile and leaned against a pole of the safety fencing. "After yesterday's revelations, it is only natural. Are you ready for her?"

"Does it matter now?" Homura let a bitter smile escape her usually icy cold features.

"Not really." The voice chuckled. "Here she comes."

The slight leak did not escape Madoka's eyes: "You knew what Kyubey did to the Magical Girls all along, didn't you?"

Homura could only nod; lies could no longer obfuscate facts at this point. It mattered little how Homura could defend herself; the simple fact that, instead of being stunned like normal people, Homura reacted swiftly and immediately to Madoka tossing Sayaka off the bridge was enough to make Madoka solidify her conviction.

"Why didn't you tell us earlier?" Madoka's voice trembled accusatively.

"I tried; no one would believe me." It was the truth, though Homura wished it was not. The truth, no matter how she looked at it, was outlandish enough that nothing short of an actual demonstration would be required to convince normal people. Many of those attempts at an early warning were terminated early with distrust and hysteria. Those demonstrations, however, would be costly to her cause, unless she could find a way to save everyone involved, including Sayaka.

"How… how could he do something so cruel?"

"Because we are merely means to an end to it. It'll just say that it was an appropriate payment for bringing about a miracle." No matter the miracle, the payment was simply too great. Still, Homura was partially grateful; if she had not made that wish, she would have never met Him, and consequently, she would never be able to escape this infinite cycle of suffering.

"But the payment is simply too great!" Madoka screamed and sobbed. "He did that to her, and all Sayaka-chan wanted to do was to heal someone she loved!"

"A miracle is a miracle. No matter the price, a miracle is something that should not have happened." Violating causality was simply impossible based on the laws of physics. Then again, psychic powers—especially the Warp—had a tendency to bend the laws of physics over a table and rape all of them in every orifice simultaneously while laughing like a maniac. "Without the miracle, even if Miki Sayaka spends her life tending to him, Kamijou Kyousuke would never have been able to play the violin ever again.

"Let this be a lesson to you, as well. Miracles are worth far more than a human's life, and yet that rat goes around hustling them for that price. Do not fall for his words, for they would surely bring doom to you." And it was something that puzzled Homura even after meeting Him and going through so many iterations. They knew who the master of that white rat was; but how was the rat allowed to perform miracles for the simple price of a handful of souls on average? What would its master stand to gain from selling miracles at a loss? What could be the ulterior motive of the Incubators?

Homura knew not the answer to those questions, yet she had a hunch that they would be revealed soon. What she did know was that whatever the answers were, they could never be good to humanity and to her, and certainly not to Madoka.

"… Is there a chance for Sayaka to go back to her normal life again?" Madoka took some time to digest that small speech.

"As I have said, you must give up on Miki Sayaka." Homura could only hope that her words carried more weight than it did last time they met one on one.

Her hopes were dashed when Madoka outright refused: "But she saved us! If it were not for her becoming a Magical Girl, I would have died in that Witch's barrier along with Hitomi!"

"It was my responsibility for not arriving in time." Indeed, if Sayaka had not contracted, Madoka could very well have died in Elly's barrier, and Homura would have no choice but to turn the clock back to Day 0. "But the responsibility is mine alone to bear. You must not confuse gratitude with it, for there is nothing you could do to save her. I understand that you feel indebted to her, and want to pay her back so you no longer feel inferior to her; however, you should abandon this line of thinking, for the debt to her is not yours, but mine."

Only the gusting of the wind and the rattling of the fences filled the void of silence for what seemed like an eternity, before Madoka responded with a voice that the wind could easily drown out: "Homura, why are you always so cold?"

It was such a good question that Homura knew not how to respond.

"You are afraid to get hurt. You are afraid that you are going to fail again and witness her death again." The voice said, giving no regard to Homura's pride. He was right, and she knew it. Warming up to Madoka meant becoming emotionally attached; becoming emotionally attached to her meant that when the time would come to battle Walpurgisnacht, Homura could never bear to watch her consumed by despair, despite—or perhaps because—having watched her suffer this precise fate countless number of times.

She was nothing but a foolish coward: a worthless, gutless coward that could only run and hide in the face of adversity, and a hopeless fool that stuck her head in the sand while everything fell apart around her. Homura turned her back toward Madoka and raised her head to catch tears welling up in her eyes. Such weakness was not befitting of her; she should be the strong one that supported Madoka, and not the weakling that ran away from her.

She knew that. She knew all of that all along. But even though she had known these things since the beginning, she could never overcome her instincts.

"Perhaps it's because I am no longer human." Homura stopped as soon as her voice started quivering. She must be strong, even if it meant pretending to be cold due to her cowardice. Breaking down in front of Madoka would be unsightly.

Madoka let out a light sigh and bowed, even though Homura spared no glance at her. With a small "thank you", Madoka made a dash to the exit, and disappeared.

When the metal door of the exit slammed shut, Homura's knees gave away. She dropped down onto the tiled rooftop and sobbed with her face in her hands: "Oh father! Oh father, why must I be so weak in front of her? Why must I be such a coward?"

"It is because you are human, my child." A warmth enveloped Homura's body, despite the wind howling around her. "It is because you are human, after all."

* * *

><p>Kyouko caught the apple Sayaka tossed back at her, but just barely. It flew so fast that she could feel the flesh of the apple giving way as it collided with her palm, before a dull pain shot from her hand. It was to be expected. If she were Sayaka, she would not eat that apple; taking food from someone who tried to kill her twice was, at best, ill advised. Still, a peace gesture from Kyouko was necessary.<p>

The blue-haired girl looked miserable. Her face had not been washed; tears left streaks of paleness against her fair skin. Black rings from lack of sleep surrounded her eyes. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and both her shirt and pants were wrinkled disasters, with creases and folds like crumpled paper.

But the change to her eyes struck Kyouko the most. Unlike in the previous encounters, the fire burning in her eyes were gone; that fierce flame of indomitable will was replaced by a pallid and aimless void, her unquenchable spirit extinguished.

Kyouko liked that burning pair of azure. However large their disagreements may be, Kyouko loved the passion and conviction in Sayaka's spirit, even though she was only vaguely aware of it. Seeing those things drained from Sayaka, Kyouko could not help but lament the lifeless husk of a creature in front of her.

Then again, all of them—every Magical Girl—were husks, sacks of flesh and bone with their soul wrenched from them; and for what? A "miracle" that more often than not cause unintended consequences? Such price was way too steep…

"This used to be our church." Kyouko started, surprisingly lacking the casual contractions and obscenities behind which she hid. The church itself had decayed from the holy ground it used to be. Its stained glass windows were all but broken or stolen. The fresco on its dome-shaped ceiling had mostly peeled off, as the chandelier that used to suspend above the rotting chairs now sat in a tangled mess, having crashed into several chairs when its chain broke from rust. The altar, on which two empty candle stands lay, was covered with thick dust of abandonment, as was the broken tiles on the floor.

Such a state of decay was fitting for a church that should never had had a congregation; Kyouko allowed a whimsical twist of a smile escape to her lips. She used to believe that it was the human's job to rise up and kick fate in the nuts. She had suffered the consequences in these years.

"My father was a pastor and a preacher. He believed that the religion, as it stood, had little bearing on the modern way of life, and it needed some 'renovations'." She continued, letting her voice echo throughout the great hall. "As such, he was branded a heretic and a blasphemer, and his congregation left him until there was no one left.

"Without the congregation, we had nothing. My sister and I barely had enough to fill our growling stomachs. We had little warmth for the winter, and neither of us even dreamed of getting new clothes. That was when I met him, and—foolish as I was—I wished that people would listen to my father."

Kyouko tilted her head back and met Sayaka's eyes. To her utter joy, she saw a spark lit up those beautiful bits of azure: "What happened then?"

"The next day, people flocked to my father's mass. My wish, compounded with my father's charismatic preaching, meant that the congregation kept growing in size at an absurd rate, and I thought, 'gee, if I could keep my family happy by fighting Witches, it ain't so bad' and for a while, I truly, honestly, from the bottom of my heart, believed that." Kyouko continued her story with a bitter chuckle, "Too bad, things are never meant to be perfect.

"One day, my father found out about the whole deal. He realized that he didn't get all those followers because his sermons were good, or his ideas were accepted." Her voice turned feeble as she whispered.

"He found out about your wish."

"And, you know what the most ironic thing was? He called me a witch. Me. A witch." Kyouko drew in a long and wet breath through her nose and cackled; her surreal laughter seemed to strike cracks against the very reality surrounding the duo, as Sayaka suddenly felt a chill around her so harsh that her bones trembled.

"Funny, isn't it? I devoted my whole life fighting Witches, only to be accused of witchcraft by the very person I tried to help. And one day, he finally snapped. He drank way too much. He stabbed my sister with a kitchen knife, and hacked my mother to death with that same knife. When I came home from a night of hunting Witches, I…" She choked a little. "I found him suspended on a noose in the living room, with my mother and sister's body around him."

"… I'm sorry."

"I don't want your goddamned sympathy. I want you to understand where I'm coming from." Kyouko snapped, whipping a vicious look at Sayaka, who almost cringed from it, "You and I, we're in the same boat. Live your life for the benefit of others never turns out as well as you think it would. Live for yourself, though, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself when shit goes sideways. It's easier that way. Trust me."

There was an uncomfortable silence; only the wind's passing through the hall could be heard as Kyouko waited for Sayaka's reply.

"What do you hope to accomplish by the speech, little Kyouko? And a speech to persuade a headstrong fool of Khorne? Ha!" The voice inside her asked, and Kyouko could not find an answer. "Is it innocent love I taste, or is it delectable madness? Oh, yes, wonderful! Wonderful indeed! This shall be a splendid gift for my Lord!"

"If you're living only for yourself, then why are you concerned about me?" Sayaka asked the same question as the voice, but in a different way.

Why indeed? Kyouko could only mentally silence the voice. How could Sayaka, who had done naught but antagonize Kyouko, prompt such an outburst from her? There was no explanation; at least, none that Kyouko could think of at the moment.

Perhaps the voice was right. Perhaps she was going insane.

"We have the same starting point." Kyouko finally responded, after an eon of silence. "Both you and I, we made wishes for someone else that didn't—or wouldn't—turn out the way we wanted. You already paid too much for what you've got; you should think about how to get even."

"Like yourself?"

"Yeah. Like me. I don't want to see you make the same mistakes as I did. It's really difficult to watch, you know."

"Be honest with yourself, little Kyouko." The voice returned, this time with a sinister chuckle, "Be honest. It's not because you want her to get even. It's not because you want her to avoid making the same mistakes as you did. It's because you love her. Admit it. You know it to be true."

"I… had the wrong idea about you. For that, I apologize." Sayaka responded, as Kyouko grunted silently to quiet the voice in her head. It had appeared more often than ever since she met Sayaka, and the duration of its silence shorter and shorter.

"But I don't regret the fact that I used my wish for someone else's benefit." Sayaka's answer was a hammer to Kyouko's head. The fire in her azure eyes was burning strong once again, but the sight of it was not a bit comforting to Kyouko. "I've decided not to regret about it so that I don't cheapen the feelings I had when I first made the wish. Not now, not ever."

"Ho, I could taste the maiden's delicious love!" The voice commented with a hysterical cackle, "Would your love be more delectable than that from a savage of Khorne, Sakura Kyouko, hmm? Would your love be more fitting a tribute to the Prince of Pleasure?"

"Stop this madness!" Kyouko's mental scream almost leaked out from her lips as they twisted into unnatural shapes while her teeth ground against each other. The voice was silent, for now, but how long would it remain silent? How long could it be before Kyouko could no longer shut it out? How long could it be before its perverted, twisted words of lunacy begin to influence her?

"Even if you think I did, I don't believe that I've paid too much. I can do plenty of wonderful things with this power, depending on how I use it.

"And what about you? How _did_ you get them apples? How could you get the money to buy them?" The apples were bought with money that she "coopted" from a drunkard the previous night; in fact, all of her belongings were either bought with money coerced this way, or from suitors that got what they suitably deserved. Kyouko opened and closed her mouth, but all of her words seemed to cower in her throat.

"I thought as much." The silence from Kyouko seemed to confirm Sayaka's original suspicions. "Then, I can't eat one of those apples. I don't even want one. I'll live the way I want, and the way I see fit. If that crosses you somehow, you can try and kill me. I won't hold a grudge against you, but I won't lose either."

"So, what are you going to do now, Sakura Kyouko? How are you going to change her mind? How are you going to win her back? Huh? Huh? Huh?" The voice cackled in madness. Kyouko's grip on the apple in her hand—the very same that Sayaka tossed back at her—tightened, until her fingers and nails dug into the flesh of the fruit, and it cracked and broke into pieces. Staring at her juice-covered hand, Kyouko made a small "tsk" as she took another one out from the paper bag and…

Chomp. "Motherfucker."

Chomp. "Motherfucker!"

Chomp. "Motherfucker…"

Chomp. "Motherfucker…!"

* * *

><p>Hitomi sat quietly inside the coffee shop. It was a nice escape from the overwhelming odor in the school; after a single day, she had already used the Excruciator more than five times. If such a trend continued, soon she would not be able to think straight without a dose of pain applied to her body.<p>

Maybe Kane was right; Hitomi sipped her coffee as the breeze from the air conditioner brushed her cheeks with cool and refreshing air. Maybe it was time to take some time off from school and break off contact with Kamijou for a while.

Even on the streets, she could not help but notice a whiff of that same scent on the streets; the very same scent that Kamijou, the school nurse, and several others had been giving off. It was not heavy enough to affect everyone just yet, but Hitomi feared that it would only be a matter of time. Just what had happened to Kamijou and all those people? The scent was not what a normal human should give off.

It seemed that Magical Girls were not affected by the scents, and Madoka was a simple special case that was immune to them; Hitomi summarized her findings during the day at school. Neither Sayaka nor Homura was swayed by Kamijou's scent; that confirmed her suspicions that their resistance had something to do with the spirit they had inside them, due to them being Magical Girls.

Getting one of them was out of the question, now that she knew the truth; Hitomi sighed. The immunity was certainly enticing, but the price she would have to pay was too steep for even the most excessive of miracles. Besides, Kane would be infinitely upset with her if she did; he would probably kill her without a second thought for selling her soul.

Hitomi chuckled bitterly as she glanced around. The coffee shop was relatively empty; being a member of a chain, the decoration too was dictated by the higher management of said chain, but Hitomi could see the touches the owner of the shop had not-so-subtly rubbed into the decors, such as the small plush toys on each coffee table.

It was a nice touch, one that endeared female customers in particular; Hitomi picked up the small teddy bear lying on her desk. Of course, they got lost all the time, and the owner often gifted some of them to children, but it was effective in drawing in quite a few customers to offset the losses.

Would it be similar to the Eldar's tactic, then? Were they placing a bait by offering up their services, in order to get some intangible and perhaps significant return in the future? Kane did mention that the Eldar being a race concerned more with the distant past and the distant future, so the line of thinking was not too much out of the left field. Still, Hitomi shuddered at the speculation: if the Eldar was able to plan that far into the future, what would be outside of their expectations? Did they even anticipate Sayaka's downfall and more?

Even when in thought, Hitomi did not fail to notice Sayaka's discreet entrance into the shop. Meekly and quietly, she slid into the seat opposite to Hitomi, and just as quietly ordered a small cup of coffee.

Hitomi suppressed a smile. She had been observing Sayaka in school and saw her take notice of the glob of female admirers around Kamijou; and equally, Sayaka noticed Kamijou paying attention to her during recess, as well. It was blatantly obvious what Sayaka was going for here, and—even though she wanted to avoid such a confrontation—she had to work toward a more positive outcome here, an outcome that would delay or even suspend Sayaka's Witch transformation.

"So…" It was Sayaka who broke the ice, much to Hitomi's surprise, "Um… about what happened before, I…"

"It's okay. You are a Magical Girl. You have issues that I could not even begin to understand, and I understand that." Hitomi tried to smile as much as she could. "Besides, that's not what you're here to discuss, are you?"

Sayaka seemed to squirm in her seat a little. Sometimes, Hitomi wanted to shoot herself in the mouth for its quickness. But words were like spilled milk; once uttered, they could never be collected again. All she could do at the moment was damage control.

"No, I mean…" Sayaka stammered, "Um… I mean… about… It's about Kamijou… I…"

It was nothing surprising; in fact, it was so expected from Sayaka, that Hitomi could not suppress a laughter: "What about him?"

"I… um… I saw him glancing at you today… do you… are you… interested in him?"

"No, I'm not." Hitomi tried to look as calm as she could. "Why would you suggest that?"

* * *

><p>"That cretin is lying." The voice spoke in Sayaka's mind as soon as Hitomi finished her sentence.<p>

"No, she couldn't be…"

"Her pulse had heightened, and blood was flowing to her face. I could see her eyes darting around yours, afraid to meet your gaze."

Sayaka genuinely hoped that Hitomi was telling the truth. The glances Kyousuke tossed Hitomi was way too overt to be a mere coincidence. Instead of Sayaka, who gave him his new life with a sacrifice, he was interested in Hitomi. If Hitomi truly reciprocated those feelings…

"Ask her if she noticed Kyousuke's looks. Ask that lying heathen if she had taken interest."

"No… I… I can't…"

"So you would rather delude yourself with wishful thinking? That is not the way of a warrior, Miki Sayaka. It is best to make things clear and cast aside your doubts, lest they come back and backstab you."

He was right; Sayaka took a deep breath. Her face—even with her enhanced rate of metabolism—was burning and, if she did not know better, she would have thought herself in a fever. Her heart thumped forcefully as it always had, pumping boiling blood throughout her body as her muscles quivered.

With a long sigh, she finally fired the question: "Did you… perhaps notice him… looking at you funny today?"

"What?" Hitomi seemed shocked, though even Sayaka could tell that the shock was not completely genuine. "You mean, he's interested in me? What? How could that be? I…"

"There. Do you need any more proof?"

Sayaka's heart sank. Hitomi certainly knew about Kyousuke's interest in her. She was simply pretending that she did not, because she also knew that Sayaka was in love with him. What could she possibly hope to achieve with such a clumsy maneuver? What could she possibly want?

"Perhaps the dishonorable creature seeks to take him away from you." The voice sighed, "Love is a fickle thing unfit for a true warrior, Miki Sayaka."

"No, she wouldn't…"

"She would not betray you? Would you not do anything in your power to be together with Kamijou Kyousuke?"

Sayaka could not argue. Her mouth opened and closed, yet not a single word came out. If Sayaka herself was even willing to sacrifice her soul for his happiness, would Hitomi not do anything in her power to be together with Kyousuke?

What if she made a contract with Kyubey just to have Kyousuke throw himself into her open arms? What would Sayaka do, then?

"Admit it, Miki Sayaka. She is your enemy. You will need to kill her and spill her blood before she could take Kamijou Kyousuke away."

But Hitomi was her friend. Sayaka would never consider hurting her, especially after she had saved Hitomi's life—and Madoka's—with her newfound power.

"Hate her. Despise her. Rage at her. You have every right, for she is your enemy; and the blood of your enemies shall flow, for you are a disciple of the Blood God."

She should have just let Hitomi die; the thought of it almost made Sayaka retch in horror. Was she not supposed to be the hand of justice and the protector of the innocent? How could she even think of letting Hitomi die to a Witch?

Yet there it was, the small bud of darkness inside her, and she could not deny its cancerous growth. Her arms and hands quaked so much that the coffee cup clattered with its saucer in front of her; her flesh and bones screamed to murder the green-haired abomination in front of her, but her sanity—what little was left of it—just barely restrained them. Every second she was being with Hitomi eroded her will further.

She slammed her palms on the table and her body shot up; the move made so much noise that the coffee in her cup spilled out onto the table, and Hitomi gave a small yelp in response. No, Sayaka thought; this would not do. Though her heart ached to dispose of Hitomi, she must adhere to her principles.

"Would you adhere to your principles even when she takes the most important thing in your life away?"

Sayaka ran out of the coffee shop.

"Coward." The voice sneered.

* * *

><p>Kyouko lazily took a bite out of the <em>taiyaki<em> in her hand as she leaned against the cold steel beam of a crane, letting the howling night wind scatter her long red locks behind her. The delicious baked snack tasted like plaster in her mouth. She was in no mood for food at the moment, even though her body constantly nagged her for more.

Below the crane, a white circle shone as bright as the moon that night. It was the entrance to a Witch's Barrier, and its brightness pulsated irregularly as the strange black symbols on its rim spun about wildly.

Sayaka was in there; she was fighting the Witch, and Kyouko felt it best that she did not intervene. The memory of their conversation was still fresh in her mind, having taken place the day before, and somehow Kyouko still felt hurt over it.

"Ha, is this jealousy I drank? Are you, the great Sakura Kyouko, Slayer of Witches and Scourge of Snacks, jealous that she chose that boy over you?" The voice cackled inside Kyouko's brain, but she made no motion of silencing it. "Well, if I were her, I'd just bring the boy over and have a hot, steaming threesome with you! Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Shut yer trap, ya old perv." Kyouko snapped half-heartedly, chucking the last piece of _taiyaki_ into her mouth. Ever since that afternoon, Kyouko could no longer silence him for more than five minutes; rather, Kyouko felt like it no longer let itself be silenced for more than five minutes. Somehow, instead of her, the one in control of the situation was the voice in her head, and she was nothing but a puppet having the illusion of self-determination and control.

Her body had evolved more, as well. Every bit of her skin became more sensitive, small nodules of excess nerve cells growing right under it and giving her shivers of pleasure even when her clothes slid against it. Her sense of smell and taste became more acute, as well as her sensations of pain; even lightly pressing her fingernail against her skin sent bursts of pain like a knife cut.

Kyouko wondered if it had anything to do with the conversation. After all, she had proven herself inept in getting what she—and the voice—wanted, and perhaps that was why it decided to involve itself more. As far as she knew, there was preciously little that she could do about her body, or the incessant babbling of the voice, whispering sweet poison into her mind.

"Me? Perverted? You wound me, Sakura Kyouko!" The voice mocked, much to Kyouko's chagrin, "I am simply the expression of your deepest desires, Sakura Kyouko! Have you forgotten the dreams you always had at night? The dreams that left you breathless and spent every morning? The dreams that involved the blue-haired girl?"

"Shut it." Just as absent-mindedly as the retort, Kyouko poked around the paper bag between her legs, and—much to her disappointment—found only its emptiness. Letting out a small frustrated growl, Kyouko stood up, only to feel Homura's presence suddenly appearing behind her.

Since when…?

"Are you not going to stop her?" Homura asked, having already transformed into her Magical Girl attire. "I'm surprised that you are content to simply sit here and watch."

Kyouko hid her surprise well. Homura was still a mystery to her; the few encounters she had with Homura did not yield as much information as she expected. But, since she had struck a deal with Homura—and unwittingly broke the deal twice already—she should at least appear friendly: "Well, it ain't pointless this time. She's fightin' against one of 'em Witches; it'll drop a Grief Seed."

"And you would let her take your prey?"

"Yes! Yes! Consider it an engagement gift, huh? Huh?" Kyouko made no overt response, but the voice in her head was almost driving her nuts with its cackling and heckling, "It's a gift for your betrothed! Yes, it's a present! Feed her with your prey, so that she may grow stronger! Feed her with your spoils, so that she may be more grateful! Feed her with your food, so that when you pluck her purity for our Prince, it would be so much sweeter! Yes!"

Kyouko struggled to maintain her focus even when her mind was clamoring with noise. Why, indeed, did she not intervene when she first found the barrier? She was here long before Sayaka and Madoka were; she could have finished off the Witch before they had arrived.

She did not have full confidence in her abilities, Kyouko realized; she was not confident that she would kill the Witch quickly enough before Sayaka arrived. If that was the case, she would have to face Sayaka, who would most likely not take kindly to Kyouko's presence. At this point, she simply wished to avoid a confrontation with her; the last confrontation ended in horror for everyone, and if she kept up her interventions, she may stumble and uncover more terrible truths and cause more unintended consequences.

"In our deal, ya said y're gonna be the one dealin' with dat bitch, so…" Before Kyouko could finish her sentence, the entrance to the Witch's Barrier started pulsating more rapidly, with crimson lightning dancing across its unblemished cream-colored face. The lightning screamed and rumbled, sending piercing crackles into Kyouko's ears and—even though it should not be that loud—made her cringe from the noise.

Homura simply raised an eyebrow. Without even hearing a word, Kyouko knew that Homura had seen through her words and dug at her true thoughts. It was not in the least fair, when Kyouko knew next to nothing about Homura while Homura seemingly knew everything about Kyouko, but she had no time to ponder these things.

Sayaka was obviously in trouble. The Barrier was growing stronger; the ripples and crackles of energy across its entrance was but one indication, and the growing brightness of the circle was another. Soon, even loud noises could be heard through the entrance; the Witch had overpowered Sayaka enough that the sounds of the fighting was spilling over to reality, the sharp crashes of metal against metal and the dull thuds of flesh against some hard surface almost too much to bear for Kyouko.

"Ha, isn't that perfect! Imagine Sayaka, your love, being beaten into a bloody heap, unable to even mount the most basic defense! Imagine her, collapsed on the ground, with the Witch poised to strike her down! Imagine her, at the mercy of the Witch, only to have you swoop in and be her white knight!" The voice snickered, "Her white knight, defending her from certain oblivion! Her white knight, protecting her from certain death! Her white knight, shielding her from the dangers of the world! That would impress her, yes! That would get you into her pants! Or is it skirt? Skirt, pants, no difference, not at all, no problem!"

Kyouko grimaced. The voice did have a point, but if she kept agreeing with it, the line between it and her would blur; when that line would finally disappear, she would become a hedonistic prostitute in heat, wanting only perverse pleasure.

But, it probably would not hurt if she agreed with him once: "Dat damned bonehead newbcake! Didn't I tell 'er to take 't easy?"

With a graceful slide, she slid off of the crane, transforming midway in her fall and landing straight into the white circle, paying no heed to the crackling energy. Sayaka needed help, and it was Kyouko who was going to offer it.

* * *

><p>The space inside the barrier was as strange as usual for Madoka; however, this time, it resonated differently within her. The ground was the purest black, yet the dome-shaped sky was the purest white, blemished only by twisting geometric patterns of interlocking gray crosses of varying sizes and shapes, forming a large and indecipherable mesh across it.<p>

In the middle of this extraordinary arena, there lay a large and tall mound of the darkest coal. Sitting squarely on top of that was an altar of sorts, having an ebon lotus-shaped base and a large carnelian idol, shaped like a vase with a wider base and slender top, on which a blood-red sun-shaped symbol rest. Surrounding it were characters—runes that she had observed in other barriers, runes that was painful to merely see, and runes that were dancing around the symbol in an intricate yet erratic pattern.

The Witch itself sat in front of it, a roughly humanoid doll seemingly in prayer. Madoka could not distinguish its features, for they melded seamlessly into its body of the deepest onyx, merging at its feet with the mound and with the earth. The entire ground seemed to be composed of shadows as Madoka inspected it further; its textures shifted and squirmed under her, almost prompting her to retch as horrific images were presented seemingly at random: images of death, dismemberment, disembowelment, torture, rape, and a slew of other atrocities committed by humans to their compatriots in the past.

Sayaka stood opposite of the Witch, panting heavily with her cutlass in hand. As though it was a feature of the barrier, her entire body seemed to be consumed in darkness, but somehow her cloak was unaffected as it remained a streak of impossibly bright white against the gloom. Never had any of Madoka's devices functioned in this strange space, yet she was certain that Sayaka had been fighting with this Witch for more than thirty minutes, an absurdly long time given that each blow they struck against their opponent could potentially be fatal.

Madoka cheered for Sayaka as she let out a fierce roar. Tentacles—strands of shadow, painfully black against the bright sky—rose from the ground, each ending in sharp claws and scissor blades. All of them targeted Sayaka all at once, but none of them could score a hit as she cut and sliced them apart with her blade in a whirl of death.

Sayaka's dance was different from the other Magical Girls'; Madoka observed. Mami's dance was methodical and analytical, poking and exploiting weaknesses with maximum efficiency; Homura's dance had an almost mechanical precision to it, extremely simple yet mercilessly effective; Kyouko's dance was as flamboyant as her personality, her artful movements mirroring a true dancer with her deadly array of weapons as her props.

Yet, even though all of them danced toward the same final goal of annihilating Witches, Sayaka's dance was the most disconcerting. To put it simply, there was no dance; she put her life on the line each time she fought against a Witch, and she truly fought like someone who had her back against the wall. There were neither fancy movements nor artful expression; there was only Sayaka, fighting tooth and nail against a deadly enemy, desperately giving everything she had in every blow she struck and every step she took.

It was her dance that put Madoka into perspective. It was her dance that reminded Madoka that even Magical Girls could well die in a Witch's barrier if they did not give it their all. All Mami, Homura and Kyouko did, all their dance moves, their precise maneuvers, and their fancy weapons, they did with that idea in mind; it was their experience, their confidence and their skills that made everything look easy.

Sayaka had nothing but her determination at the moment, a stubbornness that could wear out the most patient of enemies. Sure, confidence would come with experience, and skills would grow with experience, but Sayaka had none of those. To survive, she must fight; to fight, she must go all out.

And so, Madoka watched as Sayaka made a headlong dash toward the body of the Witch. A storm of tentacles armed with sharp instruments of pain were roused by the dash, and all of them swirled around her, their weapons glinting menacingly in the pale white light of the sky.

Sayaka crouched down, as if in meditation. As the tentacles crashed down on her like hailstones and before any of them could even make contact with her, she made a great leap high into the sky, higher than any of the tentacles and almost touching the dome-shaped ceiling. With a grunt, a giant black-and-white magical circle, inscribed with musical symbols, expanded around her feet, serving as her platform for her air dash.

With a savage howl, Sayaka stomped against the magical platform and shot like a bullet toward the Witch, grazing past every tentacle it could raise to stop her. The Witch prepared for the worst, spouting a tree-like growth from its face, and with a painfully loud bang that almost blew out Madoka's eardrums, Sayaka's cutlass stabbed deep into the growth.

Unable to achieve her goal, Sayaka was unwilling to relinquish her sword. The Witch, however, seized the opportunity, as the tree of darkness thickened and grew, swallowing an immobilized Sayaka into its embrace.

"Sayaka-chan!" Madoka shouted with concern, fully aware that there was nothing she could do against a Witch. Although Sayaka's dance had always been a fight to the death, Madoka could not help but feel that her dance was much more downcast and despondent than it had been. The deal with Hitomi had certainly shook her up, as it would if Madoka were in her shoes, yet it was as if Sayaka was actively seeking death instead of confronting her problems with her tenacity.

The shadows coiled around Sayaka, swallowing her into the tree. Certainly, the Witch thought it had captured its meal, and was preparing to consume it, before moving on to Madoka.

Yet not everything would go as it wished. A black slit widened into a gap, through which flaming red lightning came bursting through. With a flurry of cuts, the tree disintegrated into chips of shadow and melted back into the ground, leaving Sayaka behind.

It was Kyouko, with her signature chained spear. She had come to Sayaka's rescue. Catching Sayaka's limp body with her arms, Kyouko allowed her spear to circle around her body for protection, landing lightly in front of Madoka before gently placing Sayaka beside her.

Madoka sighed with relief. If it were not for Kyouko, Sayaka could have died and she would have no choice but to contract to save Sayaka. As it had been, Madoka could remain on the sidelines a little longer with the hopes that she would never need to contract.

"Ya god-damned newbster, I ain't gonna sit there watchin' ya beaten int'a bloody heap no more." Kyouko waved dismissively and striking a pose as her chain spear reformed into a straight shaft. "Just stay the hell back, alright? I'll show ya da basics.

"Hey! Wha' da fuck ya think y're doin'?" To both Madoka and Kyouko's surprise, Sayaka slowly stood up.

"Don't get in my way. I don't need your fucking help." Sayaka rumbled menacingly, her voice low enough to send chills of terror throughout Madoka's body.

It was then that Madoka noticed small streaks of red on Sayaka's body. Red liquid seeped out from cracks on her armor, gashes on her torso, scratches on her arm, and rips on her leg. She was riddled with bleeding injuries; some were even severe enough that, if she were human, would require an ambulance, not to mention the consequence of blood loss.

If she were human, she should have been dead already. Yet she was moving around as though the injuries did not exist at all!

With a dash as fierce as ever, she shot toward the witch like an arrow. Shadows attempted to intercept her by weaving a net, but it was too late; with one clean strike, Sayaka decapitated the Witch, spilling blots of crimson on the pitch-colored ground. It was not yet dead, however; two tentacle arms bashed Sayaka back into a heap on the ground.

It was then that Madoka remembered that Sayaka, like the rest of the Magical Girls, was no longer human. She had discarded the inconveniences of the mortal shell, preferring a "more combat-oriented form" as that white rat had said. It was because of that she could move unhindered by injury and unfazed by pain…

… Or was it? Mami felt pain. Sayaka used to feel pain. Kyouko and Homura could certainly feel pain. What exactly did she do to her body?

Slowly crawling up, Sayaka released an insane chuckle, one that shook Madoka to the core. The mad giggle even intimidated the Witch, headless as it was, as its tentacles recoiled back from Sayaka and squirmed around with no purpose.

"He's telling the truth! He's telling me the truth after all!" She giggled, "Pain is just an illusion!"

Madoka watched in shock as Sayaka beat the Witch with the side of her cutlass, smacked the Witch with the back of her cutlass, and sliced the Witch with the blade of her cutlass. Each strike sent a spurt of the witch's crimson blood high into the air and splattering into the ground. She kept pummeling the Witch, even as it tried desperately with its clawed tentacles to rend, tear and cut her apart, her own blood flowing freely from those fresh wounds.

And Sayaka's war cry echoed throughout the barrier, twisting, warping, thrashing, and writhing into an unholy cacophony, burning itself with this horrid image into Madoka's mind for ever:

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

How do y'all like them apples with blood, huh?

I have to apologize in advance. Real life is getting hectic, and my work is getting busy, so I probably would not be able to push these things out as fast as I have been (and I've been pretty slow with them to start with).

Please look forward to the next chapter, as everything starts to unravel.


	16. XV: I'm Really an Idiot

**XV: I'm Really an Idiot**

* * *

><p>The Witch's barrier did not collapse. Instead, the sky turned from pure white to blood red as the Witch was brutally and messily slaughtered, with its blood splattering everywhere, mixing with Sayaka's own.<p>

Kyouko had but a second before Sayaka's blade bit into her spear. The azure-haired girl wore a terrifying grin as she pressed her blade against Kyouko, the sharp and shrill grinding of metal on metal barely concealing her crazed laughter.

"What the hell are ya doin'? Get a grip, woman!" Kyouko screamed, but Sayaka was simply too strong. As soon as her blade slipped clear of Kyouko's spear, Kyouko quickly disengaged from Sayaka with two huge leaps backward, but Sayaka wasted no time with her charge. Kyouko did not take Sayaka's charge head-on. It was evident that Sayaka was much stronger than she was, seeing how Sayaka could overpower Kyouko with ease in that last clash. She needed to be smarter, and use her speed to her advantage.

Sayaka's movement was sluggish to Kyouko, berserk as she was. With a graceful hop, she sidestepped Sayaka's charge, and whipped her spear around, slamming the shaft on Sayaka's back. The force of impact should have knocked Sayaka down with pain, or even break her spine, but Sayaka did not even grunt upon impact. Instead, she stumbled a step forward, spun around, and slashed at Kyouko with vigor that Kyouko had never seen before.

With an earth shattering boom, Sayaka slammed her sword into the ground in a swift downward cut. Kyouko could feel the blade's bite, even though her nose was still inches away from the tip of the sword as she hopped back. And then, it dawned on her: this was not a game for fun like how it was the last time they fought; this was the real deal, a real duel to the death, and only one of them was going to walk out of the barrier alive this time.

"Damn it!" Kyouko swore as she barely stabilized her stance. Sayaka pulled out another cutlass, and with a maddened cackle she flew toward Kyouko, swords gleaming with cold steel. Kyouko's arms and hands went numb with each strike, and she could see her palms bleeding from the impacts Sayaka made on the spear. The pain was somehow amplified by her new physiology, making it ten times harder to hold her spear and to defend herself.

Kyouko barely dodged Sayaka's thrust, using the spear as a pole to dance around. Quickly, she wrapped her legs around Sayaka's neck, looking to send her flying again with a back flip. This time, however, Sayaka was not fazed by the lack of air; instead, with a wicked laugh, she sent both her swords through Kyouko's sigh.

Kyouko still managed to send Sayaka crashing into the other side of the barrier, painful as it was with swords jutting out of her thigh. Blood flowed freely through the wounds, but none dripped on the floor; it seemed that her blades were eagerly drinking her blood, its steel tinged with a darkening shade of crimson as they remained in her body.

The pain nearly made Kyouko faint as she pulled the swords out. If they had remained any longer, they would have drained her of blood; even though she was but a doll controlled remotely through her Soul Gem, it was still an unpleasant prospect.

As Kyouko tried to heal her wounds with magic, Sayaka had already gathered herself and obtained new swords; moments later, she was inches away from Kyouko, her blade deep within the redhead's torso. All Kyouko could let out was a pained gurgle as she felt life flowing away from her to the sword. At this point, there were no longer a point to hold on to her spear; Kyouko let it clatter impotently and quietly, her hands holding onto the weapon in her body.

With a forceful kick to Kyouko's shoulder, Sayaka pulled the sword out with a twist. A small burst of blood filled Kyouko's vision as she flew into the wall of the barrier, all the while wailing in pain.

Through the agony of the moment, Kyouko laughed dryly. It was barely a week ago that Sayaka was the one lying in a bloody heap; she never could have anticipated their reversal of roles within what seemed like moments. She clutched her wound; blood seeped between her fingers like a small stream, and she could feel her clothing around the exit of the blade on her back soaking with her own blood, the warmth quickly cooling into a cold sticky patch.

She wondered if she was going to die here as her mind started to wander. It was only fitting that she who preached to live for oneself regardless of others be slain by someone who had devoted herself to living for others, to justice and honor above all—even when said person was possessed by an unholy entity, one that wished only for blood and carnage by the looks of it.

Sayaka slowly approached her as Kyouko tried to stem the bleeding. Each step echoed in the empty space, knells announcing Kyouko's impending doom. With a grin, Sayaka quietly licked her blade with her tongue, scraping what little blood there was left on it, the crimson blade matching horribly with her moist red tongue and clashing equally horribly against her pale skin.

In but a moment, Sayaka's shadow already loomed over Kyouko. Even though she was no longer human and even if the bleeding had already stopped, Kyouko still felt weak from the unending pain the wound inflicted on her. With an exhausted head tilt, she stared straight through her would-be executioner's eyes as she struggled to keep them open.

To her surprise and utter horror, Sayaka's eyes had changed. No longer were those human eyes, their unnatural thirst for blood notwithstanding. They were azure gems set within crimson orbs, the eye-whites being flooded completely by blood, as if all vessels in her eye-whites suddenly burst from anger or rage.

"So, I'ma die here. At her hands. At last." Kyouko whispered with a small, sad smile.

"Contentment!" The voice in her head spat with disdain. "Give in to me, and you'll overpower her! You'll dominate her! You'll have her! Let me save you, and we shall enjoy pleasure everlasting, with her at your beck and call!"

Kyouko chuckled, but her last chuckle was interrupted by a gurgle of blood welling up from her throat. Even though the blood loss had stopped on the outside, her insides were seriously damaged by Sayaka's blade twist; she coughed and spat out a blob of blood: "… Nah. This' good. This' good enough…"

Yes, it was; Kyouko raised her head again and stared at the crimson blade as it was raised high over her head. All it took was a strike at her Soul Gem, and it would be all over.

The nightmare would be all over.

She closed her eyes and waited. And waited. And waited.

But it never came.

Instead, there were sounds of struggle, of a small girl screaming and wailing, and of Sayaka screaming and grunting at the same time. Kyouko opened her eyes, and her eyes widened after witnessing a glimpse of pink behind the azure, and a small, delicate hand on the wrist of a much stronger arm.

"Sayaka-chan, snap out of it!" Madoka screamed. She had come to Kyouko's defense, just as Sayaka was prepared to strike home. Seemingly enraged, Sayaka roared and grunted, but despite the apparent effort she put in and despite Madoka's comparatively small size, her arm did not budge one inch forward.

"… why…?"

"… Get out of here! Get out while you can…!" Madoka screamed as the barrier started to collapse. Sayaka continued to struggle against Madoka's hold; amateurish as it was, Sayaka failed to break it, and the intensity of her attempts was gradually weakening.

Kyouko chuckled bitterly and shook her head. There was no way she could run with her injuries, healing as they were. Her regenerative capabilities were nowhere close to Sayaka's, and she was healing herself with all her power; even so, her wounds would not completely heal until a few hours later, and she could only regain her mobility in an hour or so.

"… Snap out of it, Sayaka!" With a clatter, Sayaka's blade dropped at her side, and Kyouko noticed her eyes reverted to normal, the crimson that dominated them fading to a milky white with visible red veins. She stopped struggling, and her tense body slackened visibly. She lowered her head, hiding her complexion from Kyouko's view. She shook loose Madoka's grip with a simple jerk of her wrist; Kyouko wondered how much effort Madoka must have put in when Sayaka was still berserk, or if the intervention from her friend stopped Sayaka from sinking further into madness.

Sayaka kicked; the Grief Seed—which landed in the area before the fight between the two girls broke out—clattered as it almost flew into Kyouko's eyes with the pointy end. Instead, Kyouko's hand blocked it, the Grief Seed embedding itself deep into her palm and finally coaxing a screech from her.

"Take the damn thing. It's what you came here for, isn't it?" Sayaka grumbled, before releasing her transformation and nearly collapsing in Madoka's arms. It was clear that the fight took even more out of Sayaka than it did from Kyouko; Sayaka could not even stand by herself.

"… Wait…!" Kyouko screamed again as she removed the sharp object from her hand. The Grief Seed, too, seemed to drink some blood from Kyouko; its black core shimmered with dark red as blood disappeared into it, and somehow it pulsed with a pace similar to a heartbeat.

"I ain't doing this for that piece of shit. Let's go, Madoka." Without even turning her head, Sayaka limped off with Madoka, leaving Kyouko alone in the night.

* * *

><p>It was near midnight, and long past time for Sayaka to return home, but she did not want to return. The downpour had lasted for a long time, and both she and Madoka was confined to the bus shelter as a result.<p>

The soybean-sized rain drops hammered the Plexiglas construction of the bus shelter like thousands of small creatures beating drums. Each individual collision merged with the next, creating a cacophony of dull impacts.

Sayaka could not distinguish between the drops. Ever since she asked the voice to alter her further, she had found that every sense on her was being dulled. The howling wind that sped through the bus shelter sent shudders throughout Madoka's body, yet Sayaka felt none of the bone-chilling coldness. In fact, she barely felt the wind's rustle.

She leaned against Madoka, almost unable to feel her warmth. Her fight with the Witch had drained most of her energy from her, and the regeneration of those wounds she sustained in combat almost broke her back.

"Sayaka, you are burning up." Madoka whispered hoarsely, the volume so low that her words almost escaped Sayaka's dulled hearing.

"It is a side effect of your metabolism, Miki Sayaka." The voice smirked, "You are faster, stronger, and tougher than any human on this planet now. You can take on one of the primitive tanks they have without a scratch on your body. You are a warrior, one born to spill glorious blood in the name of our Lord and Master."

"… I'm fine." Sayaka insisted, even though she still felt weak. She tried to separate herself from Madoka, but she has not yet recovered enough strength to lift her body.

"…" There was silence, uneasiness filled with the silent murmurs from the rain. Sayaka enjoyed the silence, before Madoka broke it with more of her words: "You're not fine… You… you can't fight like that again…

"You're lying when you say 'it doesn't hurt'… It hurts just watching you fight the Witch… and when you started to fight Kyouko… I…" She sobbed. Sayaka thought she was pathetic; she quickly retracted that in horror, wondering how the place from where that line of thought came could even exist in her mind. "I… I can't stand what you're becoming: this… this bloodthirsty, crazy woman that doesn't even distinguish between friend and foe, human and Witch!"

"The girl does not know the glorious truth, Miki Sayaka." The voice was not in the least sympathetic to the fragility of Madoka. "She is weak and soft, frightened by what she does not understand. She is not fit for the Blood God's gifts."

"If this is the price I have to pay for my wish, then so be it." Sayaka could hear the rumbling chuckle the voice let out as she muttered these words.

"But, but… this kind of recklessness is not going to help you in the end!"

"You know what's going to help me?" Sayaka lifted her head off of Madoka's shoulders, feeling a wave of rigor surge through her muscles. "You know what's going to help me? You can shut the hell up and join the fight!"

Madoka looked shocked at the truth; Sayaka all but scoffed: "Spare me the act. You're powerful, right? Kyubey told me that; yeah, he told me you're much more powerful than all the Magical Girls that ever existed on the planet combined! If you really want to help me, if you really want to share my suffering and make me feel better, then contract! Contract and become a fucking Magical Girl instead of spouting worthless shit from that damn mouth of yours!

"Oh, but fuck that, I fucking forgot! You can't fucking do that! You aren't going to fucking do that because you're still a fucking human!" She continued her tirade, as she stared into Madoka's horrified eyes, "You look down on us Magical Girls because you're still a fucking human, still living and breathing, and you'd still fucking die from a fucking knife to almost fucking anywhere! Even after giving up my fucking soul to save your worthless life, even after everything I've fucking done to protect you and your fucking family, you still dare look down on me, you ungrateful, inconsiderate, degenerate bitch?"

"Sayaka, that's not…"

"Don't you dare, don't you fucking DARE call me by my fucking name again!" Sayaka screamed as she turned around, "We're not fucking friends anymore! I don't want to call a sick selfish fuck like you a friend!"

"… But that's not what I meant, I…" Madoka sobbed and cried, but Sayaka was not going to listen.

"Cut her apart. Cut her apart like the worthless meat sack she was. Our god demands it."

"I don't need sympathy. Not from an animal like you." She whispered weakly as she stood up and walked into the rain, paying no heed to the soybean-sized raindrop hitting her skin and leaving Madoka behind.

She could not feel anything but rage, after all.

* * *

><p>"I should have been there." Homura whispered in High Gothic as she sat in her couch with her face buried in her hands. Kyouko sat opposite to her, with bandages wrapped around her injured hand and chomping down greedily on a piece of fried quarter chicken.<p>

"Hmph?" Kyouko raised an eyebrow as she chewed on the chicken's juicy flesh. Homura seemed to know a lot about what was about to happen, and what would have happened if she took certain actions. It almost seemed like her power was to predict the future, at least in the short term.

The bustling atmosphere at Homura's home surprised her more. Soldiers wearing uniforms she did not recognize was talking in a language she could not understand, bringing in and out green crates full of weapons and equipment, assembling them and maintaining them on what space she had in her home. The house was practically a fortress at the moment, with sandbagged weapons nests on almost every window facing a street, and most of the rest of the windows boarded up and sealed. Kyouko decided to comply after Homura asked her to suppress the questions; all would be revealed in time, she said.

"I should have been there." Homura repeated, digging her face out of her palms and stared straight at Kyouko. A soldier—Private Finley, as Homura recognized—brought each of them a warm towel. Upon being caught with a glance from Homura, the Private saluted and shyly retreated into the darkness of the room again, continuing to carry out his duties as Homura assumed he would.

"There ain't nothin' ya coulda done." Homura knew it was a flat-out lie spoken simply to comfort her. If she would have been there, she would have made all the difference, and broke the fight up with ease. But given Sayaka's state as Kyouko had described, it would then become a fight to incapacitate her, as she felt neither pain nor fear, and simply kept attacking like a berserker.

If it were not for Kane and his relatively mundane requests asking for Homura's attention, she would have been there and Madoka would never have to step into danger like she did. Traces of Xenos other than the Eldar on the planet! Bah! She spat.

"But let's skip da guilt trip, alright? 'Cause it ain't gonna do y'all no good." Kyouko casually tossed the bones into the plate, and picked up another piece of fried chicken, "let's talk about Sayaka and Wally."

Wally? Homura struggled to make the connection. Kyouko must have meant Walpurgisnacht, the super-Witch that was coming into town. But given the current state of affairs, Homura could no longer be sure that Walpurgisnacht was their number one concern. Still, if they could defeat it without Madoka contracting, Homura would consider it a miracle.

After all, it had never happened even once in her past.

"Abou' Sayaka, just what's up with 'er?" Kyouko finished her last piece of fried chicken as quickly as she could, tossing the clean bones onto her plate, before wiping her hands with the warm, damp towel. "We ain't human no more; that much I know. Still, that ain't like her, just comin' in an' slashin' an' bashin' at me with no fuckin' warnin' like that!"

Homura sighed. To explain to Kyouko Sayaka's sudden behavioral change would require exposing her to the Truth, Truth that she was unable to accept in all of the previous iterations. Would it be worth the risk?

"The question you should be asking, my child, is 'would it hurt to try?'" The voice boomed inside her head. He did have a good point; Homura conceded. However, like thousands of attempts before, it would most likely end in Kyouko storming off because she thought Homura tried to lie to her.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expect a different result." Homura quietly spoke in High Gothic, not caring if the soldiers in the room heard her words at all.

"Well, certainly both of us have met that definition a long time ago." The voice chuckled.

"Either that, or the definition is faulty." Homura whispered in her mind as she made the decision. She straightened her back, folded her hands, and rested her chin on them: "Do you really wish to know, Sakura Kyouko?"

"… Ya make it sound like it ain't nothin' pleasant an' I didn' know it. Piss off with yer play-pretend apocalyptic prophecy an' jus' spill it, woman; we ain't got no time 'ere." Kyouko snapped as she laid back on the couch, her arms resting on the back.

"… Very well then." Homura took a deep breath, and then sent an appreciative nod to Private Finley, who had brought them "recaf"—the Imperials' name for coffee—clumsily made from instant coffee grains. She sipped the black liquid, frowned at the coarse bitterness of it and chuckled; it was not unlike what she was about to tell Kyouko, a bitterness that would sink into the heart.

"You are aware of the Witches, yes?"

"Yup. What abou' 'em?"

"And you are also aware that there's a voice in your head?"

Kyouko looked slightly surprised, before she adjusted her composure: "'course. Ya got one too, right?"

"Yes, but mine is not the same as yours." Homura continued, "You see, when a Magical Girl gives in to the voice in her head, she becomes a Witch. What you have seen from Sayaka was her partially succumbing to the voice. Thankfully, Madoka was there, or she would have fully transformed into a Witch upon your death."

Homura finished, letting that statement sink into Kyouko's head for a second. As if on cue, everything in the room stopped moving; only the clock in the room ticked idly by, one second after another.

"… Ya gotta be bullshittin' me, right?" Kyouko's mouth twitched as she let out a pair of dry chuckles, "Yer bullshittin' me."

Homura simply stared at Kyouko, her expression unchanging. She was almost amused, if they were not discussing such a serious matter, to see Kyouko's face go through colors that a normal face should not even have, as Kyouko processed her words.

Kyouko whispered, at last: "Then, the Witches we've been killing, are—were—human? You're telling me that we're murderers all along?"

"Once they fully give in, there is no way that I know of to reverse the transformation. It is impossible to ascertain whether or not they still remained conscious in their Witch form, but it could be safe to say that we are granting them mercy by ending their suffering."

Kyouko's mouth opened and closed, her attempts to make any kind of sound futilities. The activities resumed while Homura was talking, the quiet whispers between soldiers not enough to cover the awkwardness of the silence.

"What about the Grief Seeds?"

"As far as I could tell, it simply serves as a conduit for you to restore your energy supply which, if you learn how to use your powers properly, you would never need to do. The taint in your Gem, however, is the degree to which you have succumbed to the will of the voice in your head. It goes away momentarily when you use a Grief Seed, mainly for show, but it will return to its normal level eventually."

"… But why? What does that rat bastard hope to gain?" Kyouko quietly buried her face in her hands, and let out a muffled whimper.

"It claims that it's staving off entropy by creating usable energy to delay the heat death of the universe." Homura scoffed, "A slightly more correct understanding of science would tell us all that what it's been saying is complete and utter bullshit, because the Second Law of Thermodynamics never works that way. I never found out what its true motive was, and it insists that it could never lie, but simply be economical with truths."

Kyouko's hands tightened into balls: "How do I know if he's actually telling the truth and you're lying?"

"So, you are still not ready to believe me, as I expected." Homura sighed. At the moment, she was speaking more to the voice in her head, who sighed with her, than to Kyouko. "But it doesn't matter; regardless of its motive—its stated goals—the way through which it achieves its goals is clear. It uses girls like us, desperate for a wish, to work toward its own nefarious ends. That much is true, and you know it."

Kyouko remained silent, as Homura continued: "Regardless of all that, Walpurgisnacht is coming in about a week. We need to be ready for it, and as you can see, my allies and I are preparing for war. You should do the same; rest up, get enough other Grief Seeds to make sure your power stays in tip-top shape, and… and forget about Sayaka."

"I can't do that!" Kyouko slammed her fists on the table, almost causing the glass to crack. The room sank into silence once again; the clock's ticking was louder than gunshots. "I can't watch her sink into madness like that!"

"At this point, there's not much you can do for her." Homura almost smiled. She never expected Kyouko to be so attached to Sayaka emotionally, "She would not listen to reason. Neither Madoka nor you would be able to call her back once she relinquishes control and becomes a Witch; most likely, she would kill you both."

And then, Homura muttered: "And that, I cannot allow."

"… Thanks for the food; and information, I suppose." Kyouko winced as she slowly stood up. "But if you expect me to go along with your 'plan', know this: I will not abandon Sayaka without trying everything in my power. I will not let the madness claim her, no matter the cost."

"Even if the cost is your life?"

After a long pause, Kyouko turned around, her red hair swaying as she did: "Yes, 'cause I know I'll be damned if I didn't try my best."

With that, Kyouko stepped out of the house, slamming the door as she exited. Homura buried her face into her hands and let out a long sigh.

Private David Finley quietly snuck up to Homura, bent down to her, and whispered: "Milady, you do not look so well. Who was that person?"

"… A zealot that would not listen to reason." Homura whispered, before she took in a deep breath and let it out with another long sigh while shaking her head, "What insanity! What absurdity! What madness!"

With a chuckle, she stood up and flicked her hair: "But then, who isn't insane these days?"

* * *

><p>Hitomi took a long breath as she turned a corner. That familiar, musky scent had gotten heavier and heavier in the air, even outside the school; inside the school, it was suffocating. She found herself needing more and more frequent stimulations from the Excruciator just to stay focused at school.<p>

She should stay home for a while and avoid Kamijou, Hitomi decided. A break would be nice; she did not know how much longer she could stand him, with his aura and scent seeping into every pore of her skin.

She was more worried about Sayaka, however. Ever since the talk she had with Homura, they had maintained regular phone conversations with each other every night. The talks were brief, but at least Hitomi knew where her place was in Homura's picture. The previous night's talk, though, had her nerves on edge.

Sayaka did not come to school that day. The last time she missed school was the time when her inhumanity was revealed; according to Homura, her sanity was slipping from her grasp as she slid further and further into the depths of corruption, and there was nothing Homura or Hitomi could do to stem that slide.

Madoka seemed worried, as well: after school, she bolted out of the classroom without even saying goodbye to Hitomi. According to Homura, Madoka witnessed what transpired within that Witch's Barrier; she watched as Sayaka almost murdered Kyouko with a gleeful smile on her face. It must have been traumatic, Hitomi sighed, especially since Sayaka was a dear friend of hers.

And she was a friend of Hitomi, as well; it was part of what she was trying to do. She hoped that bringing Kamijou around into Sayaka's embrace would help her stay sane longer, but as the situation had developed, it was no longer a feasible option, it seemed. Hitomi just hoped that she would be able to get out of this situation with her own sanity intact.

She took a deep breath again as she turned from a main street onto a seldom-used side street. She liked the peace and quiet it offered as she walk home; it gave her an escape from the whirlwind of unfortunate events around her, a sort of insulation against the harsh reality. The air was fresh, the fragrance of freshly-mown lawn and the thin but sweet accent of flowers overpowering the primal heady musk that permeated the air, and Hitomi smiled…

… Until her ears captured the familiar clatter of crutches striking hard pavement behind her, and natural fragrances yielded to the musk once more, even thicker and more disorienting than before.

Kyousuke was following her; of that, Hitomi was certain. Her heart raced upon this discovery, sweat seeping out from the pores on her hands, making them wet, slippery and cold. She pretended to not hear the sounds of the crutches, and quickened her pace.

Why was he following her? What could he possibly want?

The monotonous clatter became more and more rapid as Hitomi also accelerated. She thought there was no way that Kyousuke—with his legs still disabled—could catch up with him, but she simply could not shake him. She quickly turned corners, weaving in and out of alleys that even she could not recognize, trying to lose her stalker, but the steady and rapid clattering continued much to her frustration.

"Hitomi!" He called out, and Hitomi stopped abruptly. Even though she wanted to run away, she could not even move her feet, as if she was under a spell of some sort. She glanced around, and found that they had returned to a quieter section of the shopping district standing right in front of a conveniently placed bench.

She could hear Kyousuke trying to catch his breath behind her, as his scent surrounded her in an ominous embrace. Her body automatically turned around as if it was but a puppet made of flesh and bones, and Kyousuke stared into her eyes.

* * *

><p>Sayaka dragged her body through the streets. Somehow, there was remorse welling up in her from what happened the previous night; her tirade against Madoka had left the pinked-haired girl in tears, sobbing and crying like she had lost someone dear to her.<p>

Maybe then she would understand her pain, Sayaka thought. Maybe she would just contract and help her out with this whole Magical Girl business, because it had taxed her much more than she imagined.

But deep down inside, she knew that was not the case. She knew that her words had hurt Madoka deeply. She knew that she was without a single friend with whom to talk about her troubles.

She was truly alone, in every sense of the word.

"I am still here with you." The voice grumbled.

"And I'm supposed to talk to you about my troubles?" Sayaka mumbled weakly as she quietly leaned against the wall in an alley. "You're the one who got me into this situation in the first place."

"That is where you are mistaken, Miki Sayaka." The voice was discontent with Sayaka's description of him. "I was not the cause of any trouble related to your friends or your relationship."

"You're trying to say I brought all this on myself." Sayaka scoffed. "Sometimes, I wonder if you're not just another part of me, a split personality that only a crazy person like me would have."

The voice chuckled softly: "I am, and yet I am not. I reflect the truest of your desires; I feed on the most intense of your emotions. I am part of you, and yet I am separate from you. Unlike them, I only speak what you know is true."

Sayaka sighed. He was being cryptic as ever; her brain, exhausted and in need of rest as it was, could not decipher his words. But somehow, deep down, she knew that he was speaking the truth; he was simply another facet of her, an illusion her mind had created in its madness to somehow rationalize and justify her actions.

Sayaka wanted to argue; she did, knowing that the voice was the driving force behind everything she had done up till then. She knew that he was in at least partial control of her body when she was trying her hardest to kill Kyouko in that barrier, when she chewed Madoka out with the harshest word she knew, and when she was tearing a Witch apart with her bare hands earlier that day. All three times, she let her rage blind her, and—willingly or unwillingly—she ceded control to him.

"Face it, Miki Sayaka; this is your true nature: a fearless berserker, spilling blood across the stars." The voice chuckled, sensing Sayaka's doubt. "The Blood God has foreseen your fate, and he has planned for you the path of glorious destruction, for you to be his champion."

"And for that, I must give up my own humanity?"

"Have you not already given it up for that boy's health?"

Sayaka could taste the smirk in the voice's tone, and she was not at all happy about it. Then again, there was precious little she could do, for what he said was the truth; she was no longer human, and thus the whole concept of "giving up" was no longer applicable.

"And look where that had brought you." Sayaka's eyes were directed toward the bench directly in front of it as she hid inside the alley.

She wished they were not.

There it was, Kyousuke and Hitomi, kissing each other so passionately that even Sayaka blushed through her shock. She could already imagine it: their tongues entangling with each other like slithering snakes, making obscenely wet slurping sounds as their lips and their hips moving against each other.

It was a customary human mating ritual; even though Sayaka should not be surprised or offended by such a sight, she felt the urge to retch.

This must be a nightmare; she thought that she was sleep walking. Pinching herself had barely any effect, as she no longer felt any pain through her skin, so she banged her head against the wall until she was dizzy from the impacts, blood trickling from a laceration on her scalp.

Her vision slightly blurred by the crimson, she once again directed her eyes toward the scene. Surely enough, the couple were still kissing, their hands now groping about each other and moving under their garments. Kyousuke's crutches were carelessly discarded aside, as was Hitomi's school bag; they did not even care for the fact that it was broad daylight and they were in the public, and continued the vomit-inducing ritual as if there were no spectators.

There were no spectators, except one.

"It is not a dream. This is reality. This is what you have been fighting for." The voice spoke quietly. Sayaka could feel—barely—the rapid cooling of tears rolling down her cheeks as she bit her lips, until she could taste her own blood flowing into her mouth.

Such sweet liquid hydrated her parched mouth, giving vitality to her who was lethargic. It rejuvenated her body, and jolted her spirit up for a little. She smacked her lips, smearing the strange metallic sweetness over her lips, before she quietly bit on her finger.

There was no pain, but more of the sweet crimson came oozing out of the bite wound. In front of her, the couple was still kissing and moaning pleasurably, their clothes ruffled in their erotic scuffle.

And she took the scene in, even as she sucked desperately on her bleeding finger.

"Burn this scene into your mind, Miki Sayaka." The voice almost cackled in glee as Sayaka eagerly swallowed what small globules of blood she could drink from her own finger. "This is the result of your innocence. This is the result of your naiveté. This is the result of your misplaced righteousness."

Sayaka turned around. There was no point in watching any more.

She had seen everything she needed to see.

"What should I do now?"

The voice smiled.

* * *

><p>Kyousuke's lips were warm and wet as Hitomi fell into his embrace. His scent was like a tsunami as it washed over her, causing her heart to race. She could feel his tongue entangle with hers, his passion flowing into her at an alarming rate.<p>

Her sanity screamed—whatever sanity she had left—and her brain tried to command her muscles to push him away from her, but none of her muscles responded as she intended. Instead, her hands fondled and felt his body, while his hands did the same to her. Moans of pleasure gurgled forth from her throat, a vulgar, filthy sound that she had never wanted to hear from anyone, much less from her under these circumstances.

His legs gave as he pressed on top of her, and she fell down onto the cold pavement with a grunt. The coldness and the pain of the fall was just barely enough to muster a little strength, and she pushed back as hard as she could. He was quite heavy, however, and all his weight pressed down on her, making it difficult to breathe.

She knew that such a chance was fleeting, and she might not get another one in the immediate future. Fumbling furiously in her pocket, she finally found the little cube in her pocket as he sent his hands into her blouse and groped her chest.

Despite the strong stimulation she had received and the amplification his scent gave her, she managed to slip the small grey cube into his chest pocket. Squeezing out a psychic signal, she activated the grey cube, and he seized up in pain.

She shoved the convulsing body off the top of her, and straightened her shirt. Her breaths were short, her face was flushed, and her clothes were ripped in several places. She never anticipated him to get physical with her; she simply thought that he would seduce her into being his willing victim, but this time he had gone too far.

Removing the cube from his body, she pocketed it without a second thought. Strangely, the scent seemed to disappear with him being incapacitated, the amount of pain the cube inflicted on him long past the threshold of human physiology.

Without a second thought or even a second glance at his body, she turned around and dashed away from the scene, abandoning him in the center of the street.

Behind her, a black-robed figure slowly emerged from the shadows, accompanied by two grotesque-shaped creatures with long teeth and sharp talons. They made no attempt to pursue Hitomi, and instead stopped in front of Kyousuke's unconscious body.

If Hitomi were here, she would have immediately succumbed to the unholy musk emitting from their bodies, but fortunately for her she had escaped the scene barely in time. The robe in black slowly shook his head, and gestured the creatures, who gently carried Kyousuke's body on their shoulders, before disappearing into the night.

The robed figure, however, remained for a little longer, his eyes trained on Hitomi's rapidly disappearing silhouette.

"Though you have outsmarted me now, we'll meet again; and the next time, you'll learn your rightful place as my prey." He muttered to himself, "for the signal has been sent, and they shall come, and they shall grant all peace and salvation."

* * *

><p>"We can't lose her!"<p>

Mami screamed in Azrael's mind as they remained still. They had been monitoring Hitomi and Sayaka as Homura had requested, having both of their lives revolving around Kyousuke during the hours.

Azrael was not happy with the arrangement at first, but he was content at the moment.

He had serendipitously found the excitement he sought with the Far Seer at his back. He could feel them sneaking around in the darkness, hiding behind air conditioning units, chimneys, pipes, ventilation ducts: anything that would provide cover on the rooftop. Their constant psychic buzzing was headache-inducing, but it was not enough to distract Azrael from the current goal.

The Great Devourer had a scout party sent here to disrupt and assimilate the local population for consumption. Their fleet must not be far behind.

This planet was doomed.

"We can't just lose track of her!"

"Listen to me, _mon-keigh_. We have a dozen Genestealers around us, and possibly scores more in the darkness." Azrael rejected with a vindictiveness that Mami had never seen or heard, "I am not even certain if we can come out of this situation alive, much less tracking our target. We shall track her down later; you _mon-keighs_ are terribly clumsy at covering your tracks, after all."

"Pathfinder." Far Seer Kirahla whispered telepathically, "I will distract them while you pick them off one by one."

"Agreed." As Azrael sent out the psychic message, he had already bolted for the highest point above the houses at the top of an extra tall brick chimney. In his work, having the height advantage was key, as it allowed better visibility and less restrictive terrain.

His enemies knew this, as well, since a fresh dozen of creatures stood in his way, many of them grotesque mixtures of human flesh and alien growth. Without warning, one of them leapt at Azrael from the back; without hesitation, a point-blank shot with his rifle blew it in two with a brilliant beam of blue.

A second charge by a new creature was deflected barely through a strike in its torso with the butt of his rifle. Though the elegantly crafted weapon was perfect for long-range engagements, it suffered from long recharge times and consequently having a slow firing rate. Close quarters combat with a dozen hostiles was one of the least desirable situations in which to use the rifle.

Azrael keenly felt the disadvantage as he had to backflip and dodge a third charge. The rifle was delicate, and it was the only weapon left for him to use. It beeped twice into Azrael's helm, and another screaming bolt of azure punched a gory hole through the charging offender, before Azrael sidestepped and allow the sack of flesh to crash unceremoniously onto the rooftop.

"We need better weapons."

"I concur." It was the first time Azrael was in agreement with Mami as a creature's talon nicked him in the helm, leaving a shallow gash on its otherwise unblemished surface. It was quickly decapitated with a smooth draw and cut from Azrael's combat knife, its head rolling down the slanted roof and dropping into the dark alley below.

"Would you trust me to tap into your powers?"

"Would this cause further merger of our identities?"

"I don't know, but I'm saying that I can give you better weapons if you let me, and we both know there won't be much of either of us if we don't live through this."

Azrael was mentally silent for a few moments. In these few moments, he obliterated a pair of creatures with one shot, skewering them like a kebab with a shot from his rifle, but more kept coming; he was then surrounded by almost two dozen creatures, but they hesitated to attack, for they had seen the potency of his weapon, and they were waiting for a moment that would allow them to attack simultaneously.

"Do it." He slung his rifle on his back and said. "Show me what your insignificant power can do, _mon-keigh_."

Mami responded with a mere smile as every creature around Azrael charged at him with a gurgle of a battle cry. With two bursts of light, two ornate matchlock hand cannons appeared in Azrael's hand, and with them he blasted the first and second creature to reach him at their torso. The sounds these ancient _mon-keigh_ weapons made were thunderously inelegant, but the exhilaration Azrael felt from their fierce roars was every bit as real.

Not only that, these weapons that Mami had fabricated were extremely powerful. With one blast, his targets almost spontaneously disintegrated into bits and pieces, as if it crashed into an unbreakable mesh of wires at high speed. The kills were much messier than Azrael preferred, but he could not complain about the weapons' effectiveness.

"Hand cannons loaded with super-size grape shots." Mami commented with a smile as another loaded pair appeared in Azrael's hands. "Much more effective on these things than your rifle."

"Not bad for a _mon-keigh_." The pair of pistols newly materialized in Azrael's hands had a triangular spike bayonets as long as their barrels attached to them. Two more creatures were literally shattered by the thunderous roars of their rage, and Azrael did not waste the bayonets either; he stuck one in the face of a creature, sending it reeling in pain, while nailing another in its misshapen foot, before slicing it apart with his combat knife.

Even though Azrael had been dispatching them in the most brutal manner, they kept coming like moths to an open flame. The loud booms of his pistols almost drowned out the Far Seer's war cries, as both of them moved closer together in a whirlwind of death, unfazed by the river of blood flowing under their feet.

The Far Seer, too, was not an easy opponent. Her Singing Spear danced around her, its impossibly sharp edge slicing and dicing the creatures with laughable ease. They were pitifully slow compared to her, who was simply a blur of motions too fast to capture with human eyes, and not even blood from fresh kills could mar her armor with their crimson and violet filth.

A white streak of psychic lightning turned the last creature between them into ash as both whirlwinds merged into a larger one, with Azrael and Kirahla back to back at the center. By then, there must have been more than fifty corpses in pieces on the roofs as they moved, slowly dragging the aggressors across the city.

"You have not lost your touch, Far Seer." Azrael commented. He was barely breaking a sweat, thanks to Mami's weapons.

"We've always excelled at brutal efficiency." Mami smiled in his mind.

"Neither have you, Pathfinder." The small lull in combat was the time the Genestealers took to reorganize their forces. There were more than three scores of creatures congregating on the rooftops, seizing any and every point that Azrael could use to provide suppression fire with his rifles, but it would not matter anymore.

A gunshot broke the lull as it bounced off of the Far Seer's psychic shield. The creatures had access to firearms, much to Mami's surprise.

"This is going to take longer than I anticipated." More gunshots rattled off, but the bullets never penetrated the Far Seer's barrier. From the shots, Azrael recognized the weapons: "Primitive stub guns."

"That is no problem!" With a battle cry, the Far Seer swept through the creatures encircling the duo, as Azrael's shots dropped two creatures who were firing at them with pitiful accuracy. Bullets ricocheted and sparked on the rooftop, but they never became a serious threat, as Azrael dispatched each shooter with deadly accuracy after Mami switched one of his weapons into a long-barreled matchlock musket.

The numbers on the rooftops thinned, and the creatures were showing signs of fear and hesitation as their kin was slaughtered with surprising ease. Their reinforcements eventually ceased, and their number dwindled.

Azrael blasted another creature apart with his hand cannon in his left hand. With a swift motion, he tossed the object into the face of a creature, stunning it long enough for him to dash past it. With one smooth motion, he stopped, aimed, and shot his bayonetted musket with both hands. The ball screamed for its mark, burying itself deep into the face of a creature that squatted on top of an air conditioning unit. Its head exploded backwards, its contents disintegrating into gruesome chunks. Azrael then shoved the empty gun into the stunned Genestealer, before blowing its head apart with a new hand cannon.

And that was the last one. Her Singing Spear was dripping blood from its tip, but there was not a single blemish of blood on the Far Seer, such was her speed at dismantling these creatures. If it were daylight, Azrael would see blackened spots all over the rooftops, being marks of creatures Kirahla vaporized with her psychic lightning.

He himself had an impressive kill count, as well; all in all, they slaughtered just shy of eighty creatures, most of them the quick and deadly types of Genestealers. Emerging out of this battle unscathed was a cause for celebration, but Azrael was more concerned than happy.

The Tyranids were on the planet. Soon, its Hive Fleet would arrive in orbit; after that, everyone and everything on this planet would be bug food.

"Far Seer." He had allowed Mami to access freely his memories on his previous encounters with Tyranids, as a reward of sorts for helping him fight as well as he did; even a pet needed some encouragement and rewards, after all.

"I heard that." Mami sulked, coaxing a chuckle out of Azrael. Perhaps he would stop being disparaging toward her, after all.

"… I know." The Far Seer took off her helmet, allowing her silver hair to gleam in the moonlight, "Everything is just as foretold. We must be off now; time is of the essence."

* * *

><p>The train tracks grunted monotonously as the evening sun painted the car's interior the color of blood.<p>

It was the end of the commuting period. There were a good dozen people in the car, each minding their own business, not noticing the small sulking figure of a blue-haired school girl, standing in her own desolate corner. She avoided other passengers like they were carrying the plague; the other passengers, in turn, ignored her, not even bothering to throw a glance at her frailness.

"You hate her, don't you? You hate them all, don't you?"

She nodded, digging her nails until they punctured the skin on her palms. Crimson blood dripped out of her tightly clenched fists and slowly crawled onto the ground.

Slowly, she opened her palms, and saw the bloody nail marks on them. Deliberately she licked the scarlet liquid off of her palms. The taste of iron filled her mouth; her saliva almost drooled out of the corner of her lips before she swallowed.

"Harness your hatred. Harness your rage."

A grin crept up her face as she licked her palms some more. She missed the smell of freshly-spilled blood in the air; she missed the taste of the heavenly cerise. Her body shuddered as she held up her hands, letting the sanguine liquid drip into her mouth.

"There is no need to control them. There's no need to restrict them."

Her saliva mixed with the delicious drink as she gulped it down. Her throat burned for it; her body yearned for it. Yet it was not enough. More, more! Her body screamed.

"They took away everything you have. They twisted all that you are."

She noticed two boys standing opposite to her, talking and laughing. Dull as her hearing had become, somehow she could capture their conversations quite well.

"Look at that creep!" One boy said. She was certain that he was talking about her. "Licking her palms like a dog."

"Dude, the girl that asked you out was pretty creepy too, right?" The other agreed, eliciting a round of laughter that pierced her trance.

"Yeah, they're only good for cooking and cleaning for us."

"No kidding! And, you know what happens when they get access to your wallet, right?"

"Yeah, they go take the money and spend it on something worthless. Them sluts aren't worth the money to feed them."

"Ain't that the truth, bro!"

The words stabbed at her like searing needles, turning her already-scarred heart into a bleeding pincushion.

"They are the same as him. They are the same as her. They are the same as everyone around you."

She agreed. These boys were the same as the people that tortured her. These boys were the same as the people who abandoned her. These boys were the same as the people who tried to corrupt her.

Like the people that did this to her, these boys do not deserve to live. She kicked her schoolbag aside. Slowly she walked toward them, staring at the ground so that they would not see her murderous intent. They fell silent as she approached, staring at her like some kind of freak. She could see their disgust. She could see their contempt. She could see their disrespect. They thought themselves strong. They thought themselves superior. They thought themselves more worthy.

They were naught but trash.

"Stop spewing garbage." Even as she growled, her body quivered in anticipation. In their ignorance, they would not back down. In their stupidity, they would not admit defeat.

"It's none of your business, bitch." One of them—the one that laughed at her—responded.

She wanted to cry. Maybe Kyouko and Homura were right; her ideals—to protect the innocent and to defend the helpless—were nothing but fantasies, made mockeries by scum like these. She had been living an illusion all along. These degenerates did not deserve to be protected; they did not deserve her guardianship.

Trash like these should all die.

"Spill their blood. Our lord and master demands it."

She reached out and grabbed the guy's neck. Her cutlass appeared in her hand at her bidding, its blade painted crimson by the sinking sun. She could clearly see the fear in its eyes as he struggled to breathe under her vice grip.

"Spill their blood!" The voice demanded, and Sayaka was all too happy to comply.

Slowly and carefully, she slid her sword into him from the left of his belly button. The scumbag wanted to scream, but all it managed to let out was a couple of gurgles. She stared into its eyes; they were filled with fear and agony, as they should be.

Her sword erupted from the back of its heart. Steaming blood flowed freely over the hilt and covered her hand with a warm and fuzzy feeling, as the sword screeched and vibrated while drinking its fill. The cretin's struggles stopped as its arms and legs fell limp.

She pulled the sword out and let the lump of flesh pile on the ground. The other miscreant watched all of it right before its eyes. He was petrified; it was only when she shifted her murderous glare on him that he screamed, drawing the attention from everyone inside the car.

Before he could react, she made a precise slice between his legs. Flesh and blood spilled freely onto the floor; with another slice, she cut open his carotid artery. A wellspring of blood squirted onto the ceiling of the car, forming drops that splattered onto her azure hair.

The other passengers in the car began to panic. A man—in his thirties and quite big—tried to restrain her. It was useless; with a casual toss, she sent the man flying to the back of the car. Before he even fell to the ground, she tossed a quartet of cutlass at him, pinning his hands and feet on the back wall. Another man tried to attack her from behind as she strutted to the pinned man; before he could react, she spun her body around and sliced both his arms off. A woman tried to alert the driver; she lay halved on her seat. The others—those who tried to stop her, those who tried to alert the others, those who tried to flee and those who cowardly fainted—met their ends, bleeding out slowly from their wounds.

She admired her masterpiece as she resumed her approach to the helpless man. Her breaths had become moist, heated, and heavy. Blots of scarlet rolled down from the windows. Drops of crimson dripped down from the ceiling. Pools of sanguine flowed around on the ground. Her clothes were drenched with warm blood: her uniform, her socks, and even her undergarments. Her hair stuck together, drying blood flaking off of them as she came in front of the pinned man. She could read the fear and the pain on his face; his suffering brought electric chills throughout her body.

"Spare me! Please! Spare me!" He screamed. "I have a wife and children! They need their father! Please! Just… just let me live!"

She would have none of it. Her holy work must be done. These "people"—these animals that tried to stop her righteous crusade—must not be allowed to reproduce, let alone to live.

But she was so, so, very thirsty; her body was boiling, and her throat was parched. Her blades were painted crimson; she licked the liquid off of them meticulously. Her hands were stained sanguine; she licked the liquid off of them like a child licking ice cream on her hands. She removed her garments; the top and the bottom, the outer and the under. They were not necessary: not a living human soul was in the car at the time. But the heat would not go down. Her blood was boiling; the smell of fresh blood permeated the air, the tinge of metal in her nose and on her tongue made her shiver further.

She licked her parched lips, and slowly she climbed on top of her helpless prey, with her sword in hand. Her body shivered in anticipation as she breathed hot and moist breaths at the man's neck. She licked the man's neck as he whimpered in fear of death, before her sword sliced it open and blood gushed out like a water fountain.

"Well done. The Blood God is surely pleased."

It was the only thing still palatable to her; it was the only thing her body needed.

And she drank her fill, as she deserved.

* * *

><p>Inquisitor Kane warily observed his surroundings. Even though it was night, and he was just outside downtown Mitakihara, the empty streets were abnormal. The manner in which silence filled the air around him was almost eerie, and a slight fog had descended on the area, making it just a little difficult to see.<p>

His step echoed in the empty street. Darkness wrapped around him; there were no street lights for some reason, so the only source of illumination he could rely on was the moon, and that was half-reliable at best on a cloudy night. There was something wrong, his instincts told him; after discovering Kyousuke's condition, he was no longer surprised.

There was a Genestealer cult on the planet.

Kane wished he knew more about the cult; he had had minimum knowledge of them, other than how to distinguish humanoid members of these cults from daemon-worshipping heretics. Kamijou Kyousuke happened to fit the description of the humanoid members to a T, from Hitomi's descriptions, and in the course of his investigations, he has found multiple food and grain warehouses mysteriously emptied. When he tried to probe into the matters, the warehouse managers refused to cooperate, or outright attacked him; he could only assume that they, too, were infected.

He could not ascertain the extent of the infestation, but Hitomi reported several others in her school that were possibly infected. Regardless, any Xeno infestation was intolerable, but he needed to find the source of the problem and terminate it once and for all.

He took another step, and a blob of darkness spilled onto him by the cloud in the sky. He thought he had heard something skittering in the shadows; quickly turning around, his muscles tensed and relaxed as his eyes confirmed that there were no one there…

… until something leaped from the top of a building at him. Without a moment of hesitation, Kane drew his pistol and sent three explosive slugs into the creature's chest. Bits and pieces of it from the explosions showered him, but that was not the last of his trials.

Another creature hissed and leapt at him from behind. Without completely turning around, Kane sent another trio of bolter shells into it, blowing off its still-human limbs and exploding its head. Two more charged at him from different directions, their claws and tails glinting dangerously in the moonlight. Three shots from his pistol terminated one by blowing both its legs off and hitting it right between its eyes, and the last creature was dissected cleanly with a smooth stroke from his power sword.

By then, it was evident to Kane that these abominations had picked his most vulnerable moment—during the time he returned to base at Lady Akemi's place—to strike, in an attempt to kill him before he could relay his confirmations and alert the rest of the Imperial forces. And judging from the creatures he killed, it was a full pack of hybrid and purebred Genestealers waiting for him in the darkness.

He had not time to smile or reload, for three of these grotesque abominations leaped out of windows and doorways, trying to strike him from above, behind, and his left. He spun around and with a hop he avoided the creature from above. The mercy of a power sword was brutal indeed, as it slid effortlessly through flesh and chitinous plating, separating the creature's body into two at the waist with an ecstatic hum. His second sword strike severed the bladed arm from the other creature; a swift follow-up jab through its chest and another slash at the base of the neck dismantled his unfortunate assailant. His last shell in his bolter was granted to the third one, severing its head from its shoulders; seeing how it did not stop, Kane quickly lopped off its limbs, until it was but a torso and a leg remaining on the ground.

The back of his mind tingled as he quickly spun around, facing his attacker. Its ovipositor lashed out, and only barely did Kane avoid a kiss with the creature as he tilted his head just before the tentacle speared through the air. With a kick assisted by his actuators, Kane sent the creature tumbling into the darkness, knowing that he did not slay it.

He sheathed his pistol as he started to run in the direction of Homura's residence; with him being outnumbered many to one, a 10-shot bolt pistol did not do him too much good. The house, however, was properly fortified and guarded, and they would offer him much-needed fire support to fend off these attacks.

The concern that he may be leading them to where they wanted to go briefly flashed in his mind; however, it was quickly dismissed. If these creatures had been in the city for as long as he had suspected, they would have known about Homura's residence and it being a hub of activity for the Imperial forces: "Kane to Colonel Saunders, I am inbound hot with Xenos in tow, over."

"Roger that, my lord." The noise from the background was deafening with gunfire, and Kane instinctively knew that he was almost too late to notify them. "We are engaged with unknown hostile forces at this time, over."

"As far as I know, these are Tyranids. Do not engage in close combat with them; shoot anything that heads your way. I say again, do not engage in close quarters combat with them, and shoot anything that heads your way. Is Lady Akemi secure?" Kane sighed as he quickly dispatched a charging hybrid; he knew that many more would be on his flanks and his rear, and at this rate, he could not head back to the house for protection.

"Negative, my lord. Lady Akemi was not in the house tonight." Kane had feared for this reply, and the Colonel had justified that fear. Lady Akemi did not know much about the Tyranids; she was visibly upset this morning, after Kane had requested her presence at the warehouse district last night.

Even though Kane was an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor, he knew from his Ordo Xenos colleagues the danger that ravenous swarm posed, but Lady Akemi did not. Certainly, she had more pressing concerns on her mind, but if the Tyranids ambushed her and Lady Kaname…

Kane shuddered at the thought for a split second, before he had to turn his attention to his surroundings. There must have been seven or even eight creatures surrounding him, hissing and screaming as menacingly as they possibly could.

He steadied his breath and readied his power sword. It was unlikely that he could get out of this one alive.

"Where could she be?"

Madoka muttered as she left the apartment complex in which Sayaka lived. Sayaka was not at school the entire day. Miss Saotome had apparently not received any notification for her absence, but Madoka knew the truth.

The "discussion"—as much as it could be called one—last night was still fresh on her mind. The things Sayaka had said to her left an impression deeper than any of the insanity that went on around her so far.

Sayaka was not thinking straight, Madoka kept telling herself after she stopped crying last night until this morning. Sayaka was too tired and too hurt to be herself, Madoka told herself. It was not her fault that she lashed out against Madoka, because she needed somewhere to vent her stress.

Sayaka's absence was probably because she realized the errors she made when talking to Madoka the other night and had no courage to face her again, Madoka surmised. Sayaka was like that. She was always too proud to admit her mistakes, and too shy to do anything face to face; even though she always tried to put on a strong and care-free façade, deep down, she was always too fragile and prone to snapping nerves.

If Sayaka had no courage to come and confront her, she just had to find Sayaka first. That was Madoka's thought as school ended and she rushed to Sayaka's home that day, but Sayaka was nowhere to be found. Madoka had tried her home number, her cell phone number, even her email; nothing would get her in touch with the blue-haired girl.

The sun was slowly sinking as night crept up the horizon, and Madoka had long searched any and every place that Sayaka frequented: the food court at the local mall, the coffee and sweets shop Mami brought them on their first Witch hunt, the abandoned building on that Witch hunt, and even the hospital Kamijou used to stay in. She was never at any of those places. By the time she finished her investigations at the hospital, the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon, and a starless dome of black covered the sky.

Exhausted and thirsty, Madoka found a vending machine inside the hospital and grabbed a box of juice from it. Sinking herself into the chair inside the garden, she let out a long, fatigued sigh.

She had to find Sayaka; Madoka steeled her resolve, but her legs refused to move. She had to find Sayaka and talk to her again; maybe then, Sayaka would understand and cheer up.

"I wonder if you hate me, as well."

Madoka's eyes widened at the appearance of the saccharine voice. It was the white rat, concealed behind the shadow of a street lamp post. It quietly strutted into the light, its porcelain figure stinging Madoka's eyes with its reflected light, and its red glassy eyes glowing ominously against the dark background.

It was the reason why Sayaka was going insane. It was the reason why Miss Mami had to suffer from loneliness.

It was the cause of everything.

Madoka curled her hands into fists and quietly said: "Would you change Sayaka back if I hated you?"

"That is beyond my ability." Madoka sighed as her stance slouched a little. It was the answer she expected, yet at the same time it was the answer she did not want to hear. Kyubey hopped onto the bench and sat beside Madoka.

"But… but you made miracles happen! You made Kamijou's hand heal!"

"I was obligated under Sayaka's wish, with a price for which to exchange such a miracle."

"… If I had become a Magical Girl, would Sayaka not become a Magical Girl and suffer like this?"

"That is completely unrelated to you. She willingly made her own choices; it's time for you to do the same."

Honestly, Madoka had been considering that option. She could have wished Sayaka back to normal, at the cost of her own humanity; that way, Sayaka would never have to suffer like that, and they could remain good friends forever.

But she was afraid, deathly afraid of the fact that she would be fighting Witches for eternity. Like Miss Mami, she would probably perish inside one of the Witch's barriers, never to be found again. And like Miss Mami, her accomplishments, her courage, and her tenacity would go unheard, unnoticed, and unknown until the end of time.

They were all prices she witnessed Sayaka and Mami pay. They were all prices she would have to pay if she decided to go down this path.

"… Kyubey. You once told me that I'd be a powerful Magical Girl. Is it true?" Madoka muttered finally, looking down at her hands on her knees.

"It's the truth." The slimy creature responded, sitting like a cat beside Madoka. "You're more powerful than any Magical Girl that had ever existed. You probably are more powerful than all of them combined. If you release that power by making a contract with me, you could theoretically even warp the laws of the universe itself."

"Is… is that so?"

"You might be the single most powerful human being in the universe right now."

"I… I thought I had nothing good going for me." Madoka mumbled as she tried to digest those words. "I thought I would end my life without helping anyone or even being useful. I'm… I'm alone because of it, but then I thought I couldn't do anything about it."

"Reality is quite different from what you perceive, isn't it?" The creature's smirk did not change. "You could, quite literally, become a God if you wished for it."

Madoka seemed to let its words soak in a little. Quietly, her fists tightened until they turned pale. She bit her lips in thought, her body trembling.

"Well?"

It was a long while before Madoka could respond. Silence filled the air around them, as crickets chirped away at the oppressiveness of it in futility. With a decisive turn, Madoka faced Kyubey, and broke it:

"Kyubey, I wish—!"

The world paused for a split second. In the next instant, Kyubey's body was blown apart by multiple small explosions, and a blue beam pierced its head, leaving a blackened hole in the bench.

Madoka drew back a small yelp of shock with a sharp inhale. Someone—no, it was not one but many persons—killed Kyubey before she could make her wish to save Sayaka. She glanced around like a frightened hare, searching for the culprits, and sure enough, she found them.

Homura's bolt pistol clicked empty as the large metal magazine clattered on the ground. Her arm that held the gun went limp at her side, and she herself looked miserable as she approached Madoka from the left. Her head was slightly tilted back, and she stared at Madoka even in that posture.

The other culprits were out of this world. Emerging from the shadows were two slender figures with ornate armor white as bleached bone and accented with azure and yellow. Both of them wore helmets with glowing angry eyes and permanent frowns etched on them, but they were holding different weapons: one was holding a long, rifle-like object, which Madoka presumed must be the origin of the beam, and the other a long spear with shaft as long as she was tall and a wicked blade as long as Madoka's arm. They, too, approached from the front, their weapons lowered to show their intent.

They killed Kyubey. They killed Kyubey!

But… they did not have to!

"… Why did you kill him!? Why did you kill him!?" Madoka shot at Homura with her words, still deathly frightened of what would happen if one of those oversized bullets were to hit her. "I was just going to—!"

"Why did you have to demean yourself so!?" Madoka was forced to swallow whatever came into her mind, as Homura seemed to be even more exasperated than she was. "Why did you have to treat yourself as such a failure!? Why can't you realize how important you are to your family, to your friends, and to everyone else around you? Why can't you realize how many people would be sad if they were to lose you!?

"Why can't you…" Homura grabbed Madoka's shoulders as she collapsed on her knees, her entire body trembling, the skull-shaped necklace dangling from her chest. "Why… why can't you just… think about the people who were trying to protect you…?!"

"Homura-chan?" Madoka's legs suddenly found the energy to lift her up as Homura collapsed on the ground, her knees and hands the only things supporting her.

Homura was weeping. No, she was _sobbing_, her entire body quivering with her sniffles.

"… Have we… met somewhere before?" Homura's necklace let out a weak burst of golden radiance, as the two armored figures walked up behind Madoka.

"Miss Kaname, I would also prefer you not contract." This time, Madoka was utterly and completely taken by surprise as she made a sharp spin to face them.

It was Miss Mami's voice!

"Miss Mami!" She cried out, tears welling up in her eyes, "I thought… I thought you were…"

"She was not." It was yet another voice that should not have appeared. Kyubey's voice came from the darkness, from a humanoid silhouette that should not have been Kyubey.

It—no, he/she, as it was too difficult to tell its gender even in its humanoid form—strutted forward into the light, coming to a stop beside the bloody corpse of his previous incarnation. Its build was slender; too slender, in fact, that Madoka thought it was just a kid from an elementary school. It had short pink hair, with a cat-like ear at each side of its head, its characteristic fluffy limb with a ring around it protruding from them. Its clothes were sleeveless and legless, a collared pink leotard with complex and elaborate ornaments under the collars, the most prominent of which was a huge pink gem that gleamed in the light. The sleeves and the leggings were detached from the main piece, and ended in gloves for the sleeves and a golden-soled stiletto for the leggings. A significant area of its skin—a flawless beige that seemed much more yellowish under street light—was left uncovered, and a fluffy tail with two thinner and stiffer protrusions at its hips guarded its rear.

"Ah, what a waste." It sighed, clearly disappointed at the fate of his previous body. "You know, these bodies aren't cheap."

"… Who are… you?"

"Why, I'm Kyubey, of course. Who else would I be?" It gently picked up the corpse on the bench, and quietly tossed it in a violet hole it opened on a whim. "I'll have to recycle that now."

"This is most unexpected." Homura was at a loss for words as much as Madoka or the Eldar when He chimed in Homura's head. "We have never seen such a development before. It may be a good sign."

"It may also be a bad one. Because we've been through so many iterations, we got complacent and ignored some key clues." Homura picked up her sadness and stuffed them into a safe sitting in a forgotten corner of her heart, and her mind raced back to logic and reason.

"She's lying to you, you know." It said pointedly at Homura. "She lied to you about Mami. What reason do you have to believe that she's not lying to you right now? Lying to you to try and gain you trust and sympathy? So that she could manipulate your powers to do her bidding?"

"Don't you DARE!" Homura's scream was distorted as she whipped out her storm bolter, its magazine replaced by two belt braces that extended back into her shield, "DON'T YOU DARE QUESTION MY TRUTHFULNESS, YOU SCHEMING, LYING SON OF A BITCH!"

"Facts are facts." It smirked, shrugged, and closed its eyes, "and I never lie to you about anything, Madoka. It should be clear who you should trust."

Madoka stared at Homura for a single second. It was the longest second in Homura's life, as Madoka's eyes seemed to penetrate deep into her soul.

And then, Madoka tore her eyes away.

She disapproved. It was an accusative glare, one that, even though silent, spoke Madoka's opinions loud and clear.

You should not have hidden Miss Mami's conditions from me, it said.

Homura's heart sank to the bottom, and shattered.

"I'm glad you made the right choice." Kyubey's smirk was victorious, but it almost disappeared as Madoka, too, tore her eyes away from its eyes, having stared down into the red beads for a single second.

"I've made my decision." Madoka said, just as a terrifying howl made all of them save Kyubey wince in pain. The Eldar even bent down in horror as the howl washed over them, as if something horrible took place.

Kyubey's smirk grew even wider as he heard the signal.

"My plan has finally come to fruition." It said.

* * *

><p>Kyouko leaned against a bench with her eyes closed, her mind restless against the silence and the darkness around her. The crimson sank quietly in the background, its rays projecting bloody silhouettes of the world.<p>

The voice was unusually quiet that day. Ever since the conversation with Sayaka in her old church, Kyouko could not silence it; somehow, it had silenced itself for the better part of the day, leaving Kyouko an incredible period of peace in her own mind.

She chuckled slowly. It was a wonder that what used to be such simple pleasures had become so immensely cherished; but then again, much of her humanity had already been lost upon her transformation and, if Homura's words could be taken at face value, much more would be lost.

She was still incredulous at Homura's revelations. If it were as she said, and Witches were simply Magical Girls who gave in to the daemon inside them, then by all accounts, Kyouko would have become a Witch a long time ago. She would have become a Witch when her father hanged himself on a noose; she would have become a Witch when her mother and sister bled out around his corpse; she would have become a Witch when her family's death mercilessly crushed her naïveté. But no, she endured; living for herself helped her persevere over the eternity since her family's death.

If it worked for her, it would work for Sayaka for sure. How could Sayaka be so blind as to reject her methods? How could Sayaka let herself live in misery? Kyouko did not understand, and somehow, that hurt her.

No, it did not hurt; Kyouko denied herself vehemently, yet she clutched her hand over her chest as it tightened, leaving even breathing difficult. What was this feeling? She panted, her breaths forming puffs of white mist as they escaped her lips.

The sight of those puffs made Kyouko realize just how cold it had become around her. Even though it was spring, a thin layer of frost had begun to form on the bench, on the leaves, and on the tiled ground in front of her. There was definitely something strange going on; someone—or something—was lowering the temperature around her for a purpose that she did not know, and it frightened her a little.

Unbeknownst to her, the entire area was shrouded inside a growing storm of loose psychic energy, creating an effect similar to an extremely small and localized Warp Storm. And the culprit slowly approached her from the front.

Kyouko's eyes widened until they hurt as she took in the image in front of her. Sayaka walked slowly with an unsteady gait, but with each step she took, the earth seemed to tremble and shudder under her feet. Blood—blackish-brown dried blood—stuck her once-beautiful azure locks together into hideous strands, rocking slightly as she took each step. She was without a scrap of cloth on her body; her pale skin was covered with blots and splashes of dried blood, its dark red marring her otherwise unblemished body with jarring impurities. Her unnaturally developed muscles bulged under her skin, and Kyouko could have sworn that she saw those muscles twitch and pulse with Sayaka's heart rate. In each hand, her bloodstained cutlass quivered slightly, as if they were singing in excitement about the bloodshed that was to come.

Kyouko could not speak; her body seemed to be frozen as the temperature around her dropped faster with Sayaka's approach. Her stomach growled at the lack of food for the past couple of hours, but Kyouko seemed to have forgotten her hunger. Instead, her attention was fixated on the bizarre scene in front of her; Sayaka's eyes—a brilliantly royal violet, accentuated by her blood-red eye-whites—was staring straight at her equally naked, pitifully unprotected and completely vulnerable soul.

Kyouko shivered again, not from the cold, but from her fear. Sayaka, as she stood, struck fear in her like nobody ever before; even creatures such as squirrels and birds stopped their business, mortified by the unholy presence in that naked human. The sky was twisted into a violet color, one identical to Sayaka's inhuman eyes. She slowly raised her head and looked down at Kyouko, who was little better than a breathing statue, and smiled.

That smile almost sent Kyouko fleeing in terror. It was a smile she had only seen on crazed murderers on TV, on men so depraved that they enjoyed the screaming and pleading of their victims as they murdered and raped. Even though she knew that Sayaka was slowly being corrupted, she had never thought it would come to this, or that her condition would deteriorate as quickly as it did.

"… Kyouko." Sayaka hissed, having stopped about ten yards away from Kyouko. Even her hoarse whisper sent tremors throughout Kyouko's body, as it was repeated over and over again in the air as if thousands of spirits echoed her.

"… Sayaka… are you okay?" These simple words almost took all the courage Kyouko could muster to simply utter. The answer came in a long string of dry cackles, so frightening it was that Kyouko almost lost the will to resist.

"I've never… never felt better!" She suddenly abandoned her slow gait, and hopped around like the girl she was, her blades spinning with her. If she were clean and properly dressed, such a sight would be a visual treat to anyone. Under the circumstances, however, Kyouko could not help but find the scene revolting.

"I've never felt better!" Sayaka repeated as her spinning came to a stop with a long exhale. "I understand now! I understand what my purpose is!"

Kyouko could only shudder at what she imagined Sayaka meant by that. But somewhere in her terror-stricken mind, there was budding hope, hope that Sayaka had finally accepted her vision, and would live for herself instead.

"Love is irrelevant. Fruitless. Futile. I understand now. I've been such a fool in the past, but I understand now." Sayaka said with a mad giggle, "Justice, too! There's no justice! Even when I try to uphold what I think is right, I get nothing but derision and ridicule! What do I get for carrying out this so-called justice? Nothing! Nothing!"

"Then…"

"Humans are disgusting creatures, aren't they?" Sayaka's giggling died into melancholy. How she could switch so quickly from such elation to such depression, Kyouko did not want to know. "The idea of justice is nonexistent. They don't deserve justice, or mercy, or care, or love.

"They should all die. That's right! Everyone should die!" It was then that Kyouko knew her hopes were completely and utterly crushed. Sayaka had gone off the edge of sanity, the cause of which Kyouko did not know. Nor did it matter; the damage had been done.

Her legs quivered as she stood up, partially from the cold and partially from her terror. It was necessary, Kyouko convinced herself as she transformed; it was necessary to knock Sayaka out in order to bring her back to sanity.

"Are you sure? Are you doubly sure, little Kyouko, about that? Are you absolutely sure?" The voice cackled in her head. "You're going to lose, you know. Lose! And have your flesh carved from your bones by that blind bloodthirsty berserker! Oh yes, exquisite pain it will be! Exquisite! Fine present for my Lord and Master!"

"… If there's even one chance, one chance that I can get 'er back, I ain't ignorin' that." Kyouko paused. It was true; if it were not for Madoka's heroism back inside the barrier, she would have been cleaved in half and her Soul Gem destroyed. She was no match for Sayaka in her current state, and she knew it.

"The girl is too far gone! Too far!" The voice commented after what seemed to be an eternity of silence, which almost startled Kyouko into a yelp, "She's given herself fully to that brute. It's futile, I tell you! It's futile, what you're doing for her! Your unrequited love, your feelings, your emotions, futile! All futile!"

"That ain't stoppin' me from tryin'." Kyouko tooka deep breath and struck a pose, pointing her spear at Sayaka: "I'm gonna hafta slap some sense into dat thick skull o' yers."

Sayaka merely scoffed and glared down at Kyouko, as if she never saw the redhead as a threat. With her swords stabbed into the ground, she raised her hands and cupped them in front of her chest. Her Soul Gem still radiated light, but the cloud in it was such that it was no longer possible to identify the azure; it was a small container of smoke and soot, swirling and dancing as if it was sentient.

"Fitting." The quality of Sayaka's voice changed. It departed the soft yet proud feminine voice that Kyouko had identified with Sayaka; mixed with it was a guttural and deep male voice, one that made Kyouko's ears buzz painfully.

"Fitting, that a servant of Slaanesh shall be my first sacrifice to Khorne." Sayaka extended her arms, with her Soul Gem still cupped in her hands. Drops of crimson seeped between her fingers, and soon the drops merged into small streams of blood. She opened her cupped hands, and the gem suspended in mid-air between her palms, somehow staying upright, the dark crimson liquid flowing out of its facets into small waterfalls.

Her Soul Gem was bleeding.

Kyouko had never heard a voice more nightmarish than what she was about to hear from Sayaka. Before her body went limp, both she and the voice in her head spoke in unison:

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

Her Soul Gem exploded. Blood was everywhere.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

To those who think that this piece lacked action, what say you now?

As you can clearly see, things will beginning to heat up a LOT in the next couple of chapters. Much will be revealed in the next chapter; questions would number more still.

Stay tuned for more grim-dark, more bloody action, and just a little bit of morning rescue!

Donate to the review offering box today! Your Goddess demands it!


	17. XVI: I Won't Let That Happen

**XVI: I Won't Let That Happen**

"What… what was that?" Madoka was visibly shaken by the roar that followed Kyubey's victorious smirk. It was apparent that something horrible had happened; Madoka simply had no idea what it was.

Homura, however, did know what it was, and it was beyond her wildest imaginations: "How could this… have happened? It was not… this was not in the scripts!"

"No, it was not, my child." The voice answered her thoughts, its tone grim and dire, "It seems Oktavia would not take the stage, after all. Compared to Oktavia, however, we have bigger problems."

"I will tell you after you tell me what you have decided." The smug smirk never disappeared from Kyubey's face. "So, do you trust me, who has always been your friend, or do you trust a girl who did not even flinch from lying to you in your face? I think this is an obvious call."

"…" There was silence, as Homura waited. It was the most uncomfortable silence she had ever experienced, one that had her heart screaming to leap out of her chest. She thought about pulling the trigger and blowing that smirking bastard's face off; it would be the perfect outlet to her anger and frustration. However, what would Madoka think of that? That she was too impatient to wait for Madoka's decision? That she was too judgmental to see the nonexistent "benefits" of Kyubey's deal? That she was too murderous to be a force for good?

None of those assertions were factually accurate. However, it mattered not what the facts were; at that moment, only Madoka's decision mattered. And she was about to speak.

"… I…" Madoka hesitated, as if she was chewing her words and soften the impact of her decision. Homura could no longer feel her heartbeats; the world was losing its color all around her, its shapes and forms distorting and blending into a grotesque swirl of grey.

"I… I'm not going to contract with you, Kyubey." Madoka finally spoke, and colors were restored to the world as Homura breathed a sigh of relief. "If you've withheld so much information from me so far, how can I be sure that you're not hiding things from me now?"

Homura grew a satisfied smile as Kyubey's smirk froze and its eyebrows turned into a frown. It was what that bastard deserved; a total rejection from his lies and fantasies: "Then…"

"Homura…" Madoka turned around to her, and Homura's heart sank a little again. "Even though… even though you've been here for me all this time, even though you've saved me from him once and again, I…"

"She doesn't trust you." He spoke, much to Homura's horror. "She doesn't trust you because you lied to her about Mami, just to keep her from contracting."

"It was a consequence we… no, it was a consequence that _I_ was prepared to accept." Homura thought as she steadied her aim, before she resigned: "I understand, Madoka. I'm sorry about lying to you, but I'm not sorry about why I did it. As long as you can give me another chance, I'll… I'll prove myself to you again."

"Hey, that's not fair!" Kyubey pouted, "You're going to pick me over this girl that lied straight to your face? What if she lies to you again?"

"…" Madoka hesitated again for a minute, before she spoke in a more assertive tone than normal: "I've honored my part of the bargain, Kyubey. Now it's time for you to tell me everything."

Kyubey's expression changed into a chortle and then a full-blown laughter that Homura could only describe as evil: "Very well! Very well! I suppose there's no harm in letting you know what just happened. Your 'friend', Sayaka, whom you conveniently abandoned after she ran off, was the first success in millions of trials I did for an experiment."

Homura could see Madoka's brain shutting down; her face blanked out, her eyes stopped moving, and her jaw slackened a little. She herself was surprised, as well: "You were using us as guinea pigs?"

"Well, you humans are nothing but animals to us; how do you feel about that cow you killed when you ate your hamburger?"

"What for?" Homura felt that she would rather not know, but she had to ask.

"Daemon summoning, of course." Kyubey laughed. "My purpose is to be able to summon greater daemons to the Materium without the use of a host body. See, you Magical Girls are merely incubators for these devices, with each Soul Gem being of a slightly different iteration of the same device. Sayaka's design seemed to be the most successful."

"You realize the implication of this." The voice paused a second, before speaking in Homura's mind again; this time, He was actually _worried_, Homura noticed. "They could take willing sacrifices from Daemon Worlds, make Soul Gems from them, scatter them across a planet, and have not one but several greater daemons at the same time. They could consume the planet before the Imperium could even respond."

"Your friend Sayaka had just summoned a Bloodthirster into this world. With her soul as the price, I might add."

"You… you MONSTER!" Homura screamed before she pulled the trigger. The storm bolter let out a roar like fabric ripping, and bolts howled straight into Kyubey…

… Only to be stopped by an invisible barrier an inch in front of him. The bolts exploded one after another as they crashed into the barrier, producing small puffs of smoke and harmless flashes of light. The barrier flashed and blinked as rounds were poured into it, but it never yielded.

"Hah. You think your weapons can have some effect on me?" Kyubey laughed as its nails grew visibly longer and sharper. "Now that my experiment has concluded and I no longer need you, I should depose of you, Akemi Homura. You have been a thorn at my side long enough."

"Homura… Kyouko was with Sayaka." Mami's panicked voice came through telepathically to Homura, "I could sense her, extremely close to that Bloodthirster."

"My hands are a little full at the moment!" Kyubey charged as Homura shoved Madoka out of the way. Its sharp crimson claws tore through Homura's outfit and left four bloody gashes on the left side of her torso even as she made a hop backwards to avoid it.

"We… we will go and support Kyouko." Mami spoke once again, "Stay alive, Homura."

"I'll try!" Homura had no time to see Mami leave as she fired off a long burst from her storm bolter. Kyubey's barriers again flashed and blinked, but no actual harm came to the creature as it charged again, brandishing its razor sharp claws.

Homura spared a glance at Madoka as she sidestepped Kyubey's attack. Madoka slumped on the ground, her vacant eyes overflowing with tears. Her jaw slacked, and her lips moved slightly, but she was not speaking any word. She was in shock; it was too much information for her to accept.

While Homura could continue fighting Kyubey here, since her weapons were not doing any damage to it and it could easily kill or seriously hurt Madoka, a protracted fight would only work to Homura's disadvantage.

She quickly stopped time. Kyubey was suspended in the middle of a lunge. Putting away her storm bolter into her shield, she pulled out a melta gun. Excessive force never came into the equation when she dealt with Kyubey; even though the weapon was short-range, it had enough power to deal with tanks, and it was the most suitable weapon for the situation given the foe she was facing.

She only hoped that it would be enough to slow him down. As soon as time resumed, Kyubey found itself staring down its barrel, before Homura pulled the trigger.

A directed blast of invisible radiation smothered Kyubey's face and had it burst into flames. His skin bubbled and boiled away, flesh peeling off of its bones as it screamed incoherently for a short while, before the heat seared its larynx off of its neck. It fell onto the ground and rolled to extinguish the flames, which filled the air with the pungent and sickening aroma of burning tissue.

All the while, Homura stared coldly at the creature's suffering. It was but a mere taste of what it caused that day; it was a drop in the ocean compared to what it caused to Homura.

"My child, it is not the time for you to be savoring this moment." The voice pulled Homura out of euphoria and back into reality. "You must evacuate the area at once with Madoka. Kyubey is not an opponent you can trifle with, and we have other enemies in this city."

"Understood…!" Homura felt the pain from her wounds as she winced. She turned to see Kyubey, but already its flesh were growing cancerous bulbs and covering up charred bone. It was regenerating itself through whatever unholy process that created it, and within minutes it would be back on its feet and ready to kill Homura.

Despite her injuries, Homura dashed forward and snatched Madoka up in her arms. They had to escape back to her base of operations before Kyubey could fully recover.

Their enemies were coming after them at full speed, and the situation was spiraling out of control.

Homura only hoped that she could last until the day Walpurgisnacht would come to town.

* * *

><p>Kyouko stared at the obscenity in front of her.<p>

Sayaka's Soul Gem had exploded into a shower of blood. However, that blood—which splashed and coated everything within a 10-meter radius, including Kyouko—was not content with sticking disgustingly onto whatever it splashed. Instead, the crimson liquid seemed to squirm and wriggle, as small red tendrils started draining it toward the center into a massive glob.

And how massive it was! The tendrils writhed and struggled as it was pulled back into the globe, as if resisting the globe's fatal attraction to no avail. As it grew, the orb pulsed with contractions and random movements as if it were a blackened heart, beating and thumping with feral vitality.

The blood slowly formed into a shape as tall as a three-story building, its massiveness dwarfing Kyouko, who stood wordless and motionless under it. In a moment, she could identify a pair of hooved feet, massive digitigrade legs, and an unmistakable male torso. Arms as thick as telephone poles formed to the side of said torso, their muscles rippling with might. The head slowly elongated into a snout, sharp teeth sprouting from the gums like bamboo shoots after a rain. A pair of massive leathery wings expanded behind it, its crimson color soon covered with rugged leather skin. A long, serpentine tail extended from its buttocks, whipping the air with a sharp crack as it wagged freely, slamming itself into a building to its left.

In front of her was a devil with its massive horned head, its canine-like skull, its cloven hooves, and its clawed hands. It was wearing a massive chest plate made from crimson bronze, a piece of tattered loincloth and heavy bronze bracers on its wrists and ankles.

It roared, and Kyouko could only kneel at its awesome presence. A violet lightning struck violently at its hand, and through the portal the lightning opened, the creature pulled out an immense double-edged bronzed axe, with its head decorated with a large bleached-bone skull on each side. The blade of it gleamed in the darkness, itself stained crimson like Sayaka's cutlass.

"What… what is this monstrosity?" Kyouko murmured. Her entire body was shaking; her arms and legs that supported her on the ground were quivering, and she was struggling to simply prop her weight up.

"Ah, yes! Yes! Yes!" The voice cackled, "What is this I'm tasting? Despair? Fear? Cowardice? How unbecoming of you, Sakura Kyouko! Are you not thrilled by the prospect of battling such a mighty foe? Are you not aroused by the blood and carnage such a battle shall result? Are you not enticed by the pain you shall inflict to, and be inflicted by, a Bloodthirster of Khorne?"

Kyouko could not work up the courage to even gaze upon such a creature. It was terror reincarnate, its hatred and anger burning brighter than a thousand suns. It let out another roar, one that shattered all the windows on the buildings around it and destroyed every single street light in a 500-foot radius.

It took a step, and Kyouko could feel the ground tremble and shudder under its massive stomp. The creature was slowly getting used to its body in the mortal realm, flexing its muscles and swinging its axe. One cleave from the axe split a building clean down the middle, and Kyouko could see the people still inside being torn apart by the savage strike.

They were no longer in a Witch's barrier. The monster was loose on the town, and the whole world could see it.

She saw Sayaka's body laying peacefully in front of the creature. It was just a couple of steps from the motionless body, and it seemed intent on destroying its once-mortal shell forever, as it made another step, with a third coming down on Sayaka's body.

It was at that moment that Kyouko moved. Like a bolt of crimson lightning, she dashed forth, snatching the languid body from under the monster's bovine hoof before it smashed down onto the ground in an attempt to flatten the body. Before the creature realized the body was gone, Kyouko had already stood on top of a building quite some distance away from it, Sayaka's limp body on her shoulders.

Before Kyouko could let out a breath of relief, however, the creature took flight. Its wings blew up a dust storm and almost blew Kyouko off her footing, in addition to catching her in surprise: a massive creature three story high should not be able to take to the air like it just did.

But it did. Within moments, it was barreling down on Kyouko with all its mass and its axe raised overhead. It was all Kyouko could do to hop to the next building; just as the first building was split down the middle, the resulting shockwave almost knocked the second building over, forcing Kyouko to relocate yet again.

Kyouko could not imagine combating such a creature at the moment. She had to protect Sayaka's body; it was obvious that the creature intended on destroying it once and for all, sealing what could be Sayaka's soul inside it forever. She was not about to let that happen.

But that also meant that she could not fight. Even though Sayaka weighed a little less than a hundred pounds, having to carry her seriously diminished Kyouko's speed and maneuverability. The extra weight dragged her feet; she could feel her energy draining faster than normal during these exertions and with a couple tons of flesh and metal coming at her she would need every bit of her ability at her disposal.

Even then, she was not sure if she could defeat it one-on-one. It—this "Greater Bloodthirster", as the voice called it—was obviously not a Witch, as it did not have a barrier, nor did it have familiars…

The creature roared again, and Kyouko had to banish that thought. A couple of squads of small creatures emerged from its feet. They were small in comparison to the large horror, but they were still seven feet tall, wielding a crimson sword with glowing orange runes on them that was as long as they were tall. Quickly, they spread throughout the block. Screams and wails of terrified people could be heard, as they were one after another silenced.

Kyouko had no time to be appalled at the slaughter. The Bloodthirster barreled down at her once again, this time having its shoulder smashing into the building on which she stood. As steel creaked and concrete shattered, Kyouko hopped onto a fourth building. Just as she slid down the gutter pipes, though, the monster made a horizontal swing and chopped the building in half with one clean strike.

Kyouko choked on the dust as she made landfall. The upper portion of that unfortunate house was demolished, and its upper floor roughly and carelessly bisected. The person living in the bedroom at that time—Kyouko could not tell from all the dust and carnage which gender—was murdered, their body scattered in many places from the axe strike.

Before she could react, several of those smaller creatures gathered around her, and one of them raised its great sword to strike…

… Only to have its face blown off of the skull as a bright blue beam smothered it. The surroundings were temporarily filled with silence, as the smaller creatures assessed the situation.

Using this opportunity, Kyouko leaped back a couple of times, until she fell back to slightly behind her saviors. There were two of them, both dressed in bleached-bone armor, and impossibly slender for their height, wearing tall helmets that seemed to have an angry expression permanently affixed to them.

"Greetings, human." One of them spoke slowly as its eyes glowed. He was holding a rifle with a smoking muzzle, one that Kyouko presumed to have saved her through shooting her would-be executioner. "We should retreat."

"Retreat? What the hell are you talking about?" Kyouko retorted. "Are you telling me to run and hide like a little bitch? Sayaka's soul is still in that big monster there somewhere! I've got to…"

"Listen well, _mon-keigh_, for I am not going to repeat myself." Kyouko was pretty sure he just called her a "monkey", or whatever other derisive term it meant to him, "We cannot defeat the Bloodthirster and its Bloodletter army as we are. Though it pains me to collaborate with a host of the Great Enemy, we must retreat for the moment, and consolidate our forces, before we can mount any kind of meaningful resistance."

Kyouko wanted to argue, but the roar of jet engines overhead made her discard that idea. She did not know it, but the first roar that sent her on the knees was audible across the entire hemisphere. The military had already mobilized several fighter squadrons to scout the area, before they would take further action. The target being located in a densely populated city made their decision even tougher.

Regardless of whether or not they would be effective, the military would intervene soon. If they did not leave this place, they would surely be caught in the crossfire, and with Kyouko and her saviors dressed in such… unconventional manner with the naked body of a girl in tow, many questions would be asked, but few would be answered.

With what little time she had, Kyouko weighed her options, during which the strangers gunned down another Bloodletter, and his companion destroyed two more with her spear.

"Let's go." Finally, Kyouko relented. It was not yet her time to fight. She had a charge to protect, and she had ample reasons to believe that the military would slow the monstrosity down.

The armored couple started sprinting, and Kyouko was surprised that she would be hard pressed to keep up. Were they also Magical Girls? Were they from another country? Could they be allied with Homura, or did they have some ulterior motive?

The monster's shadow rapidly retreated from them, but its roars could clearly be heard. The Air Force had already started attacking the creature with bombs, apparently convinced that the civilians within a reasonably large area around it were all killed; bright flashes of light and thunderous booms were the only evidence Kyouko needed to prove that assertion. Being in pain and prevented from advancing by the bombing, the creature let out a frustrated roar; on the other hand, Kyouko and her companions could finally rest for a moment.

"You… are fast." Kyouko panted, as she set Sayaka's body down on a bench, before sinking into it herself. The strangers were fast, indeed; normally, without the extra hundred pound of burden, Kyouko could keep up with them without too much trouble. However, this time, they were running at full speed, having apparently no regard for Kyouko's endurance, which was fairly limited.

"I am more impressed by the fact that you could keep up with us even though you have to carry a body." The male stranger commented as slowly and articulately as he could. It was then that Kyouko noticed that he had an accent, as if some of the sounds were unnatural for him to pronounce.

"I still don't know who the heck you are."

"We are Eldar. We are not Magical Girls." The female spoke directly in Kyouko's mind.

"Ahahaha! Such succulent, delectable, luscious taste! I have not tasted the soul of an Eldar for ages! Ages!" The voice cackled in ecstasy. "Defeat her! Restrain her! Ravage her! And soon, you, and she, and he, yes, all of you will sing the praises of the Prince of Pleasure! With pleasure everlasting! Yes!"

"I am not toothless prey, worm." The woman seemed to have heard the voice's insane ramblings, and Kyouko felt a bone-chilling wave of frost wash over her as the voice was silenced forcefully. And then, the woman changed her tone: "You are well on your way to daemonic possession like your companion. I suggest you conserve your energy, and shut that despicable creature out of your mind for the time being. We shall find a more permanent solution once the current crisis has passed."

"… And I _still_ don't know your names." Kyouko was in awe. With a mere sentence, the woman seemed to be able to quell the voice in her mind more effectively than she ever could. She, then, must be an immensely powerful person, for the voice to fear her authority so much.

"I am Far Seer Kirahla of the Craftworld Alaitoc."

"And I am Pathfinder Azrael of the Craftworld Alaitoc."

"It's been a long time, Kyouko." Kyouko froze when Mami's voice rang inside her mind.

* * *

><p>Hitomi sprinted as fast as she could away from the scene. Through luck alone, she escaped from becoming a rape victim. The next time Kamijou would come after her, she would not get so lucky.<p>

And then, there was the horrible roar that seemed to come from somewhere not far from where she was. Hitomi almost recoiled in pain the moment it reached her ears; it was as if a wave of sheer terror she had never experienced suddenly washed over her, and her muscles almost seized up as it did.

What was that? What caused it? Could it be related to Kamijou? Could it… be Sayaka? Could Sayaka have already walked over the edge of sanity and given into the daemon in her? Could she have already become a Witch? What was going on?

Question after question with no answer in sight; Hitomi shook her head hard as they popped up one after another in her mind. Her priorities were not related to Sayaka, she told herself; her priorities were to evade Kamijou and get to Kane, so that she could talk to him about the entire thing.

But as hard as she tried to purge the questions, they remained, gnawing on her mind like invisible little rats eating a slice of cheese. She hoped Sayaka was okay; she hoped and prayed—to whatever deity up there listening—that Sayaka would not be the source of that horrid roar. A part of her, however, scolded her for continuing to deny reality. It was not right, it said; she should accept reality as it was, and abandon any fantasies that would relieve her of guilt.

She knew it was right; she was guilty. She would be directly responsible for Sayaka's descent into madness and her transformation into a Witch. She would be the one who murdered Sayaka. She would be the one with blood on her hands.

The roar that almost caused her to seize up in fear must also have terrorized every person that could hear it; Hitomi asserted as she turned into a dark alley devoid of people, before she slumped against a wall and caught her breath. It seemed that her evasion of Kamijou was successful; for that, she let out a long breath of relief.

With her relief, however, the sounds around her started seeping into her ears. Car honks dominated the area, with the occasional siren blares accenting the ambient noise. Screams, cries, wails, sobs, and all manners of human expressions underscored the noise. It was like a simmering pot of caustic liquid suddenly bursting into a boil, splashing and eroding everything around it with a nasty sizzle while the pot itself grumbled and groaned with bubbles.

She quietly stood at the entrance of the alleyway. People were running, walking, limping, pushing, shoving, crawling; they did what they could do to get away from the origin of that horrible scream. Some of them had luggage; others had only their regular bags, while others still had their shopping bags, apparently coming from the shopping district, but all of them moved slowly in the stream of people, however much they wanted to run for their lives. The stream rolled over minor obstructions such as fences, chains, and intersections like a steady flow of lava, not stopping or slowing for any reason. The cars were moving even slower than the people; Hitomi could only assume that there were numerous car crashes blocking the way, for under these circumstances, these people had abandoned any semblance of civility or obedience to the rules.

Everyone had one and exactly one thought. They wanted to get away from the center of it all.

"And do you know who caused it?"

Hitomi took a sharp breath and spun around, only to see the white rate, Kyubey, standing on top of a garbage can.

"…" She did not speak. There were no words to be spoken to this creature, this… this murderer of girls, this harvester of souls, this lump of evil.

The creature had that eternal smile of his, that snobby smile of a scumbag: "You _do_ know that you're responsible for all this, don't you, little girl?

"… What about it?"

"You're not feeling the least bit guilty about it? No remorse? No regret?" The creature fired his words quickly and incredulously. It seemed to be unable to believe Hitomi's calm composure; but then, it smiled: "Oh, but you are; you're just trying to hide those feelings from me."

"… What do you want?"

"That's not the question you should be asking." The creature said, sitting on its hind legs in front of Hitomi like a twisted stone-lion statue. "That's the question you should ask yourself. What do _you_ want? Do you want the current state of affairs to stay exactly as it is, or do you want a better outcome?"

Hitomi suddenly understood why the creature had found her. It must have thought that she was not content about losing both Sayaka and Kyousuke at the same time; it must have thought that, being the good person she was, she would feel enough guilt to pay any price to save Sayaka from her current predicament.

And it was correct. She _would_ pay any price to save Sayaka from her current predicament. However, contracting with that creature would be one of her last options.

"I can make it happen, you know. I can give you a miracle."

"A miracle for the price of my soul, I assume."

"Ah, so you _are _aware of the caveats of being a Magical Girl." The slimy creature's eternal smile truly annoyed Hitomi. "But it is a small price to pay to atone, is it not?"

"Besides," it continued, "having such glorious power at your disposal would aid your 'friends' well, would it not? Even though you are working against my plans, I am willing to grant you such power, being the philanthropist that I am."

To give one's soul willingly to Chaos was to earn eternal damnation; Kane said that. Only then was Hitomi able to comprehend just how enticing an offer an agent of Chaos could put up; only then was she able to understand just how strong Kane had to be to resist corruption.

But she was not an Inquisitor; indeed, she was not even a member of the Imperium. She was not expected to hold herself to Kane's standards, nor was she supposed to be judged by the same standards. She was a free human on this planet; as many girls who had come before her, she wanted to tread down the path of a Magical Girl, and perish in glorious combat with Witches and Daemons alike.

Sayaka's condition was her responsibility. The consequences should be hers alone to bear.

"… What do you stand to gain from all of this?"

The creature laughed harshly, its cackles buzzing in Hitomi's ears: "What do I stand to gain? I don't see anything that I'll gain, except another soul for my lord and master. It's an amazing proposition for you, child; so amazing, in fact, that I am genuinely surprised that you would even blink before your acceptance."

Hitomi sighed. If Kyubey were telling her the truth, it was indeed an amazing deal. But most likely, the creature was hiding something from her; given its track records, it must have hidden some important detail from her, and that "something" would bring her such horrors that she would lose her will to live.

But it was not her concern at the moment. Even if she would burn in the pits of Hell for eternity, even if she would suffer for all of afterlife, it would be to atone for what she did to Sayaka.

She took a deep breath.

The creature's smile grew wider. "State your wish, Shizuki Hitomi, and I shall make it so."

An ominous white magical circle appeared under her.

Soon, it was dyed water green.

* * *

><p>Sergeant Dividus pulled and ripped a Hybrid's limb from its body with his bare hands. Iohannes almost panicked upon seeing these Genestealer. How unsightly; Dividus scoffed as his chainsword bit into another creature, sawing it in half and spraying crimson ichor everywhere. They were the descendants of Rogal Dorn. They were the fearless instruments of the Emperor's will. To lose his cool under pressure, Iohannes was not fit to be a Space Marine; perhaps his days in the Deathwatch had scarred him too much.<p>

Torvus, on the other hand, was fearless, much to Dividus' amusement. Slicing a creature's head off with one clean cut from his combat knife, Torvus calmly reloaded his bolter and proceeded to blast another enemy to bits with three well-placed shots. Perhaps it would be time to make Torvus a full Battle Brother instead of a recruit, and see if he could remove Iohannes from his squad; Dividus thought.

"The Tyranid Hive Fleet must be on its way now." Iohannes said through vox as he tore apart a hybrid with his chainsword shoved through its stomach. "We don't have the firepower or the numbers to take on an entire Tyranid invasion."

"Then we die trying! Are you afraid to die, Iohannes?" Sullivus boomed through vox. The creatures stumble forth to the slaughter, oblivious to how outmatched they were against four full-fledged Astartes. Carnage littered around them; the creatures' blood almost painting their armor crimson.

"I'm not afraid of death." Iohannes' rebuttal was less than convincing to Dividus. "I was simply concerned with the wanton loss of life, should a Tyranid Hive Fleet devour this planet."

"I have no sympathy for these people." Dividus replied, exploding a creature's head with a single bolter shell, "They do not venerate the Emperor, and they are abominable psykers. They shall all be purged, by us, or by the Xenos."

As if they had suddenly seen the futility of the endeavor to exterminate the Space Marines, the creatures suddenly ceased their attacks and retreated as silently as they attacked after abandoning over two hundred bodies. The men could finally have a chance to regroup; they needed to replenish their ammunition, and make sense of everything that was happening around them.

"The Inquisitor has obviously allowed the situation to spiral out of control." Sullivus suggested. Dividus knocked back a gulp of water from his canteen; he was inclined to agree. The presence of these Xenos on planet, their overt aggression, and the roar that they heard quite a bit earlier before the Xenos attacked them were all evidence of his incompetence.

"He could not have known about the Genestealers beforehand. Their _modus operandi_ is to stay in the shadows until their forces are numerous enough to disrupt planetary defenses." Iohannes' counterpoint annoyed Dividus. How could he defend the Inquisitor still, when there was overwhelming evidence of the Inquisitor's egregious failure to contain the Xeno threat? Perhaps his experience in the Deathwatch did change him for the worse; Iohannes seemed much more timid and indecisive compared to what he knew before.

"Sire." Torvus cautiously raised his voice through vox. Dividus could see the young man leaning against the trunk of a tree. It was no wonder; since he was not a full-fledged Astartes, fighting could wear him out more. "Should the Inquisitor not have contacted us by now? If the situation is as bad as everything indicates, he would need every bit of military might at his disposal."

"A curious question, indeed." Dividus rumbled. "He must be part of the reason why everything is going wrong. He must have agitated the Xenos enough to unleash them upon the world. He must have involved himself in creating whatever let out that roar."

"And you would be right." A young boy's voice interrupted Dividus. The entire squad was on high alert; they had just beaten back a relentless wave of Xenos hell-bent on killing them; whoever would show up at this time either had serious skills in avoiding or killing the creatures, or would be allied with the Xenos.

The approaching figure seemed humanoid, but he had a pair of long ears with three red spots at the end. If he were a human, his mutations were obvious enough to be listed as a mutant, and thus should be exterminated.

The squad opened fire, and Dividus was the first. One after another bolter shell exploded within the creature's body, sending bits and pieces of flesh and blood everywhere. As soon as the creature was nothing but a smear on the trees and grass, Dividus gestured a cease fire; there was no sense in wasting bullets at this moment, especially since they were running low.

"I just don't understand you humans."

The disembodied voice was more than unsettling to Dividus. They should have already killed the mutant completely; the fact that it was still "alive" in some sense had to mean that the creature, whatever it was, was connected to the Warp somehow.

"Come out of hiding, cowardly cur! Come and die!" He challenged with a roar.

"You think you can kill me." He giggled, as if the thought was amusing. "You think you can deal with me all by your little self. How arrogant.

"But I do not blame you. You do not yet realize the insignificance of your species in the grand schemes of the universe." Dividus carefully scanned their surroundings. Even with his much-enhanced senses, he still could not find his target; the voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, and there was no apparent movement in his area.

"You will need to be taught a lesson."

Dividus spun around and fired at the creature when he heard Iohannes' scream; the entire squad did. The shell, once again, tore the creature apart, but its claws were already deep inside Iohannes' body.

Once again, they turned it into a smear of blood. Iohannes, though, was dead; his life signs flat-lined as soon as the creature was turned into paste. The razor sharp claws effortlessly penetrated his ceramite armor, skewered his heart and severed his spine; his death was mercifully quick.

Dividus' face was twisted with fiery rage. Damnable creature! Not only was it resilient, there was no telling who it would strike next!

It laughed, and Dividus could only roar in frustration: "Blasted beast! Face the Emperor's wrath!"

Its giggle only became louder: "You monkeys never learn, do you? Though it _is_ fun slaughtering you one by one as you watch in despair, I do not enjoy being blown to bits. Farewell, for now; but we shall met again under the light of apocalypse."

A crimson beam pierced the heavens and struck some distance away in the forest, and Dividus was all but certain that was where the daemon was headed. It was not until eight beams landed in that area that Dividus dared to lower his guard; the creature seemed to have left the area, in fear of being killed over and over again.

"That must be the _Invicta_. The Guardsmen were clever enough to leverage her lances." Sullivus commented. "If that would not destroy the daemon, I know not what will."

"But, sire," Torvus spoke as Dividus moved to reclaim Iohannes' gene seed, "it feels too much like a trap to me. The abominable creature is headed that way. What if the Guards had turned traitor, and wishes to lure us in so that they could eliminate us with one lance strike? We cannot let that happen."

"The worst case scenario is that the Guards, the _Invicta_, and everyone here have turned traitor." Dividus rumbled as he closed Iohannes' eyes. Even though they did not always agree with each other, Iohannes had proven himself more than once in the field of battle. To say that there were no bond between them would be outright fabrication, though Dividus felt a small pang of sadness that Iohannes would not live to see the traitors vanquished.

"But, we must still confront the traitors and cleanse them from this world."

"Yes, Torvus. We must." Dividus lowered his bolter. "We are the Black Templars. We are the descendant of Rogal Dorn. We vowed to uphold the honor of the Emperor, and to accept any challenge no matter the odds.

"Brothers, we shall crush these heretics who call themselves 'men', obliterate the Xenos that trespass on this world, and cleanse this planet of any filth and corruption. We shall avenge Iohannes' sacrifice, and make this world sing praises of the Emperor. And we shall prevail, for we are the Emperor's fist of fury! We are the instrument of His wrath!"

"No pity! No remorse! No fear!" The squad chanted and pressed on.

* * *

><p>Kane was exhausted as his power sword bit into the flesh of a lunging Genestealer hybrid and sliced it apart. He had lost count how many of these Xeno filth he had dismantled; his power weapon was almost drained of its power, and he had long ran out of bolter ammunition, yet there were no visible reductions in the number of his enemies.<p>

He had left behind a trail of blood and gore. Bits and pieces of Genestealer hybrid littered his path, their blood seeping into the ground and staining the paving stones. Yet still, he could catch glimpses of more creatures congregating on his position. They surrounded him, most of them still lurking under the cover of the night, and they were determined to take him, alive or dead.

They must have identified him as the easiest prey out of the Imperial operatives inside the city, Kane reckoned. Their leader must have thought him to be one of the most important pillars of Imperial operations, and thus he must be removed.

What an honor and privilege; Kane scoffed bitterly as he readied himself. Though this was not the circumstance in which he wanted to die—he had wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, cutting a swath through the fallen, the crazed, and the damned—he would still be able to have an honorable death in the service of the Emperor.

And that was all he ever wanted, anyway. With a swing of his sword, he bisected a hybrid who came barreling down on him with its claws. The lower half of it tumbled into Kane, the sheer momentum of it knocking even Kane a step back, while the upper portion of the creature flew right over Kane's head, leaving blood and entrails all over his face.

Kane quickly wiped the gore off of his face. He could not afford to be blinded at the moment, especially when he knew there would be several scores of Genestealers eager to feast on his flesh. He held his sword, and struck a stance as best he could, before he took a step back into a wall.

He was cornered. Several creatures formed a semicircle in front of him, growling and snarling menacingly while brandishing their razor-sharp claws. Above him, on the rooftops, there were several dozen more, sitting, squatting, standing, and watching the development. They would be vultures, swooping down when he would show weakness, and viciously tear him apart.

This was it. It was not the most glorious way to die for a Daemonhunter, being at the hands of these grotesque Xenos instead of at the hands of a greater daemon, but it would have to do. A wave of unnatural calm washed over Kane, as he steadied his stance and cried: "Come at me, then, Xeno filth! You shall not find me easy prey!"

With a screech, a Genestealer hybrid leaped from behind the semicircle onto a wall to Kane's left, using it as a spring board to propel it like a dart toward Kane, its claws ready to tear him open. Kane, however, was prepared; he quickly lowered his stance and hopped. His sword met the creature's torso with a joyful screech, cutting the creature apart messily at its belly.

As soon as he landed, another creature swooped in from the side. Kane clumsily parried its claw strike and shoved his boot into its chest, kicking it into the side wall. His foot landed with a heavy stomp, sending a small tremor into the earth.

"Is that all you got?" He taunted. The creatures seemed a little apprehensive. Rather, they seemed _confused_; they looked at each other tentatively, no longer focusing their attention on Kane.

It may be a good chance for him to break through the line and make a dash for Lady Akemi's house. Kane was just about to move, before a horrifying howl forced him on the ground with its psychic might.

Kane knew the familiar feeling, and it chilled him to the bone.

A daemon was summoned, and from the looks of it, it was a greater daemon.

Damn it! They had nowhere close to the numbers and the artillery to handle a daemonic incursion, much less a greater daemon at the moment! Kane pounded the ground with his fist before quickly standing up and collecting himself. He was still under attack by a group of Genestealer hybrids; fighting the greater daemon could wait until he get out of this mess alive.

He briefly thought of contacting Dividus and his squad. After all, they were one of his trump cards; they could stem the tide of the Xeno invasion, and they would be a valuable asset in their showdown against the Bloodthirster.

Kane decided against it. He was still not yet certain how they would react if they found out that they were working with "heretics"; certainly the Magical Girls would classify, as they were willing hosts to daemons of Chaos. Although Lady Akemi had temporarily persuaded Kane to work with these Magical Girls and it was the best tactical and strategic option, it still left a bad taste in Kane's mouth.

Black Templars were zealous in their fanaticism. By doctrine, Kane himself would be a victim of their purge, and only the status of an Inquisitor saved him. These Magical Girls would not be so lucky. No; it would be best if he could throw the Black Templars against some impossible task, and expend them first. At this point, they were much more liabilities than they were assets.

Shaking his head to rid himself of such thoughts, Kane focused on his predicament at hand. The creatures did not retreat. If anything, they seemed to gain renewed vigor from the roar, but Kane was certain that they were not related. There were no known instances of Tyranids operating in concert with Chaos; though it did not exclude the probability of that, Kane thought it to be low enough to dismiss.

But his own energy was flowing away from him. It was not because of the greater daemon; even though its presence was quite the discomfort on his mind, it was nothing that he had never felt before. The problem was his own stamina: he had been fighting alone and without backup for a long time. He was no Astartes; he had no enhancements to extend his fighting vigor, nor was he prepared for combat before he entered it.

Those were critical mistakes for which he would ultimately pay the price, Kane smiled bitterly as a creature barreled down at him. This time, it was no clumsy hybrid that made for easy slaughter; it was a _purii_ Genestealer, the apex of the strain, with four arms, razor sharp claws and teeth, and hard exoskeleton made from dense and smooth chitin.

Kane sidestepped the challenge of the Genestealer, but its second set of grappling claws almost tore a hole in his chest. Without a moment's pause, it landed on the wall behind Kane, and jumped at him again, baring his fangs and brandishing its claws. This lunge was partially successful; its claws made a deep cut in Kane's arm, cleanly severing the steel bars that connected the servo-joints on his shoulder and his elbow. It was not without injuries; Kane sliced a finger off of its claw on the back, earning a pained screech from it as its blood sprayed into the air. It, however, was not deterred by its injuries at all; it quickly turned around and charged at Kane at full speed and fully intent on killing him in this one charge. Kane, again, sidestepped the creature, and swung the sword to sever the upper arm.

But the sword stopped as it collided with the chitin plating on the arm. The power field finally blinked out after excessive amount of use, and the weapon was rendered a simple sword with a biting edge. Still, there was no chance it could cut through the plating; the blade glided off of the creature, leaving nothing but a scratch mark on its armor.

Realizing that Kane could no longer hurt it, the creature let out a squeal of glee as it charged again. Holding the powerless sword in his left hand, Kane mustered all his strength and landed a punch in the creature's face, bashing it away from him. Still, its claws tore open Kane's armor, and left a horrible gash on his chest.

Kane used his psychic power to control the bleeding. The cuts were deep and, though not fatal at the moment, would cause him to lose blood continuously. Even worse, it seemed to be coated with some sort of poison, as the wound refused to close.

Another lunge from the creature tore a wound in his abdomen, and Kane stumbled back, his hand clutching the wound. Leaning against the wall, he slowly slid down to sit, his blood painting the wall behind him.

This was it. This was the end. He, Gideon Kane, Inquisitor of Ordo Malleus, would die at the hand of a Genestealer. Kane smiled quietly as he prepared to close his eyes, before a water green flash of light caught his attention.

The flash of light came from a human-shaped silhouette, dancing on the rooftops. More specifically, it took the shape of a large hammerhead wielded by a small person in comparison. With each swing of the hammer, a mist of aquamarine light scattered into the air as flesh and bones were crushed under it with an emerald crackle of lightning, bits and pieces flying everywhere out of the victim's back.

Kane recognized those discharges. It was similar to a thunder hammer, immense melee weapons that required all but the most powerful Space Marines to wield, but it reminded him more of the Daemonhammers the Ordo Malleus used. The user of such a weapon would almost always make the hammer look a bit small, but this one seemed to be the exception.

The silhouette hopped down into the small alley. Immediately a dozen Genestealers went to greet her, and almost as quickly they were dispatched one by one, smeared all over the wall as the hammer delivered their death blows.

With a flourish, the silhouette held the hammer in her left hand, and let out a bolt of beryl lightning that electrocuted two of the seven Genestealers that surrounded Kane with a battle cry. Every creature in the vicinity had turned their attention to her this time; several dozen of them leaped off of the rooftops and descended upon her, only to be swatted aside like gnats by the hammer, each blow pulverizing flesh and shattering bones.

The _purii_ Genestealer that was almost the death of Kane joined the fray, as well. Its lunges were gracefully sidestepped by the silhouette, while the hammer kept dealing out judgments of death to the Xenos, throwing corpse after corpse into the ground and into the walls as mere bloodstains.

Kane was in awe. It was a demonstration of strength and agility like some of the finest Space Marines with whom he had ever worked, yet she was not a Space Marine…

His heart sank as his feverish brain reasoned.

Meanwhile, the struggle between the Genestealers and the silhouette was still ongoing, but it would not last much longer. The _purii_ Genestealer was in a heap behind her; it charged at her, only to be blocked by the shaft of the hammer. She then proceeded to flip the creature onto its back, slamming it into the ground, before crushing its head and chest with one charged hammer strike. The number of creatures still in the area was sharply declining, as they exhausted their supply of troops with relatively simple tactics.

Finally, they decided to cut their losses. The alley was littered with body parts; blood drained into the sewage drains, but they soon were plugged by small pieces of gore. The walls were almost painted entirely in Genestealer and human blood; however the grotesque mixture of colors were not that apparent in the night.

The silhouette slowly approached Kane as he mustered all his power to stay conscious. He wanted to see his savior and make sure it was not who he thought it was.

He was about to be sorely disappointed.

Hitomi was dressed in an emerald strapless dress with plenty of snow-white frills, with a yellow butterfly bow tied between her ample assets. The ribbon used to tie the bow crisscrossed along her center down to her waist. Her dress bottom had its frontal part removed, revealing a pair of white stockings connected to the dress via garter belts. Her legs were armored from the knee down like a medieval knight in a pair of green-and-silver greaves; each step she took on the paving stones clinked with a metallic sound, which sent pain through Kane's ears. Her arms were clothed much the same way, with a pair of snow-white evening gloves covering up to the middle of her biceps. Her hands, however, were covered with another pair of armored gauntlets, with a snug grip on the immense shaft of her hammer.

It was then that Kane had the chance to observe the hammer, and what he saw enraged him further. Its head was square, with a skull in the middle where the shaft met the head, and over the Imperial Aquila on each side of the hammer. The shaft was ornately engraved with helices not unlike a Caduceus, and the end of the shaft was balanced by a small sphere with some ornate symbols Kane could not discern on it.

The most callous, however, was the shape of Hitomi's choker. It was a thick green band, with an egg-shaped item dangling between her collar bones. It was the Rosario of the Inquisition, the eye sockets and the nose cavity on its skull glowing an eerie green, like the rest of her.

"Kane." She whispered, before kneeling down and extending her hand to touch his cheek, "Thank goodness, I found you."

Kane responded by backhanding her across the face with his left hand: "Do not touch me!"

The backhand knocked Hitomi to the side, her hammer clattering onto the ground. She touched the cheek that was struck, and glared at Kane with her water green eyes.

"You knowingly invited a daemon into you! You knowingly made a contract with that mongrel!" Kane's voice weakened as he felt the effect of blood loss. If he did not receive medical attention soon, he would die from it.

But he would rather die than receive help from a heretic. This was a failure on his part; even though he had repeatedly mentored Hitomi, even though she was unofficially under his protection, she strayed from the righteous path and veered toward heresy. She was ultimately responsible for her own actions, but he was undeniably involved and failed to prevent it from happening.

"Kane." Hitomi whispered again, her voice trembling, "What was I supposed to do? You were going to get killed! Sayaka turned into a Witch! Everything was falling apart, and it was all my fault! What was I supposed to do? Tell me! Tell me!"

"I was prepared to give my life in my service to the Emperor." Kane averted his eyes. "Sadly, my life was spared because a heretic decided to grant me mercy. My honor and purity have been stained."

"Your Emperor wanted you alive! He wanted everyone alive! Can't you see that?" Hitomi sobbed. "Maybe I've sold my soul to the devil. Maybe I've become a heretic in your eyes. But can't you just wait until this entire thing is over before you burn me at the stakes?"

Kane's vision was blurring out. He was losing too much blood; thoughts became incoherent, as he attempted to counter Hitomi's point. His lips moved slightly, and his hand tried to remove Hitomi's hand and stop her from touching him, but it went limp before he could react.

Blood loss took hold as he blacked out. The last words he heard was from Hitomi:

"I don't care what you think of me, as long as you stay alive."

* * *

><p>Kyouko quietly approached Homura's house under the guidance of the Eldar. The previous time she came around, she was curious about the various fortifications set up around the house; this time, however, she had seen their true purpose.<p>

The houses at the entrance to the alley had already been turned into fortified bunkers, with all of the windows boarded and all of the doors plugged with bricks. Instead, large devices—oversized machine guns—protruded slightly from small slits between boards, scanning and surveying their coverage area. In front of these makeshift machine gun nests, dozens of bodies littered the ground; these were presumably enemies who attempted to charge into the alley despite the deadly crossfire.

There were no visible defenses on top of these houses, as far as Kyouko could see. The trio stopped as soon as they came into view of the alley, as four machine guns trained their line of fire on them almost immediately. Their operators were either controlled by a computer, or they were extremely highly trained; Kyouko thought as the Eldar raised their arms with their weapons in hand to signal their intent.

In a couple of moments, a man dressed in heavy combat fatigue approached them in a sprint. He was wearing a heavy set of plates and a pair of shoulder guards, both painted dull grey with some patches of seemingly random light grey and black on it. His pants and sleeves were painted the same way, as were his knee guards, elbow guards, and bracers. His shoulder pauldrons, however, were painted a simple dull gray, with the number "444" painted in white on the left one, and a symbol of skull and crossbones on the right. He was wearing a helmet painted much as the rest of his gear, except with a stylized winged skull across the helmet above his eyebrows.

The soldier saluted with his gun at the side, and grumbled in some tongue that Kyouko did not understand. It sounded awfully like English to her; but then again, with her grades, anything she did not understand sounded like English.

The Eldar then gestured Kyouko to follow, and she did. Quickly she understood why there were no defenses on top of the houses; the entire alley had been turned into a large corridor of death, with every window barricaded, and a trio of muzzles jutting out of each firing port. Anything that would be foolish enough to drop into this corridor would be shredded to pieces by the deadly crossfire, as evident by the burnt and broken bodies littered in the alley, as well as the many burn marks of missed shots on the walls. The thick, sickening scent of overcooked flesh was still strong in the alley, as if someone held a large barbecue in here but forgot to remove the meat from the grill.

The scent, however disgusting, still caused Kyouko's stomach to grumble. She shook her head to clear the thought of sinking her teeth into a nicely grilled piece of steak, and then glanced at Sayaka who slept peacefully on her back.

"I'll get you back where you belong. I promise." Kyouko whispered into Sayaka's ear, even though she knew that it was impossible for Sayaka to hear. And then, they came to Homura's home.

The door was not boarded. Sitting directly behind the door was a makeshift machine gun nest, built with green rectangular crates and some sandbags. The operator—a pair of soldiers—stared at them warily, not bothering to stand up and salute like the rest of the guardsmen. Kyouko smiled; their duty was to shoot whoever was lucky enough to come into their sight without permission; to take their finger off the trigger would be negligent.

The living room had long been abandoned as a place of meeting; instead, it was filled with soldiers shuffling around, shouting over each other in that guttural language Kyouko could not understand. This seemed to be the ammo dump, where most of the ammunition was distributed and stored.

She was directed down into the basement when the Eldar exited back into the alley, and Kyouko was amazed that it had gotten a complete makeover. There was a pair of doors in the basement opposite to each other; they were both open, and they were intended to conceal a pair of tunnels that went in both direction. It was not a small project, and Kyouko was surprised that none of it was ever shown above ground. The soldiers must move from house to house through these tunnels, thus avoiding the usage of above ground entrances and consolidating their defense to the single entrance from above ground—Homura's front door.

Speaking of Homura, she was sitting at a small inflatable single bed, with her elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her crossed hands. On the bed, Madoka lay there, with her eyes closed and her lips pursed tight.

Kyouko quietly chided herself at that thought. The truth was also difficult for her to take at first, and Madoka was infinitely more fragile psychologically than she was. Quietly standing beside Homura, she gently set Sayaka down on another inflatable mattress.

"You've recovered the body." Homura spoke absent-mindedly.

"The daemon was trying to destroy it." Kyouko replied, earning a slightly arched eyebrow from Homura. "I think that this may be the key to getting Sayaka back."

Homura smiled: "It looks like you aren't the only one who couldn't simply accept the truth. Sayaka is gone; any effort that would try to bring her back would just end with more tragedy."

How dare she! Kyouko grabbed Homura by the collar and lifted her up: "Say that again! I dare you, you cunt, say that again! I'm not going to give up, you hear me!? DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

Homura averted her eyes: "Please put me down."

Kyouko did so, knowing that Homura was right. Perhaps it was not worth the effort to save Sayaka. After all, they had so much more to worry about; the daemon going on a slaughtering rampage inside the city was one example, while the upcoming invasion of Walpurgisnacht was another.

She let out a long sigh and looked up, her hands at her hips, before lowering her head and closing her eyes. She knew all of that; she understood all of that to be true. But how could she not accept it? How could she keep rejecting reality and substitute her own? Deep down inside, she knew Sayaka was still alive somewhere, that her soul still endured somewhere inside that creature.

A soldier interrupted her thoughts as he brought Homura a bulky-looking handset and Homura spoke into it. Within seconds, Homura issued a series of what seemed like orders in the guttural tongue, and then walked quickly upstairs. Out of curiosity, Kyouko followed.

A large stretcher was prepared, with two men ready to carry it. A green-haired girl stormed into the house, with a large body piggybacked. She seemed comically small, and was barely able to lift as much weight as she had lifted. Quickly she placed the body on top of the stretcher, and the men wasted no time in carrying the stretcher upstairs.

"He needs medical attention." Homura spoke quietly. "The medical ward is upstairs. We could not handle all of the casualties, but he is the one that must live." She then spoke some order to a soldier, who seemed fearful of her, and sent him sprinting upstairs to relay it, before turning toward the girl: "Shizuki Hitomi."

Kyouko barely recognized Hitomi with her new costume, but instinctively she tried to reach out to her telepathically. To her surprise, she received a response.

"Yes, I have contracted to become a Magical Girl."

"You fool." Homura chided as she led them downstairs, "Though I cannot emphasize how foolish and reckless such an act is, I must say I welcome the addition of any reinforcement for we are severely undermanned."

Hitomi quickly dashed to Madoka's side and touched Madoka's cheeks, before sitting beside Sayaka's bed: "I… I can't believe… she's still breathing…"

"She is in a vegetative state. However, without nourishment, she will die." Homura sighed. "Normally, a Magical Girl who becomes a Witch would be biologically dead, and her body starting the process of decay the moment the transformation happens. Sayaka is a special case, I suppose."

This sentence reinforced Kyouko's beliefs: "If she's not dead, that must mean that there's a way of saving her! There must be!"

Hitomi, however, simply nodded. Kyouko saw it and thought it strange; as Sayaka's close friend, Hitomi, too, must be ecstatic about it, yet she seemed too calm and reserved. She gave it a little thought, and then abandoned that train of thought, as Homura gestured them to gather around a small table with the map of Mitakihara downtown laid out in front of them.

"Here's the plan I drafted up with the leadership of the regiment." Homura said, pointing to the location of the daemon on the map. "We need to stop it first. From whatever intelligence I could get from the _Invicta'_s sensors, the military had already launched a strike mission on it to little effect. If the military with their weapons can't stop it, we must get involved and take it down personally."

"Wait. The _Invicta_?"

"A space ship hovering in geosynchronous orbit over Mitakihara." Homura answered Kyouko's question quickly, and then gestured, "Don't ask me who it belongs to or how it got here; it'll take too long to explain. All you need to know is that it's on our side and it can rain the light of doom on whatever's in the city."

That seemed good enough to Hitomi: "So, what are we going to do?"

"We establish defensive perimeters along these phase lines and pelt it with enough firepower to slow its advance. Before it could tear into our lines, we retreat and fall back to the next phase line, all the way here." Homura drew three curves across the map with her nail, before tapping her finger on a spot in the forested area outside of the town. "Here we make our last stand. We kill it here, or it kills us and get the planet."

"Death or glory, huh." Kyouko mused. The plan seemed like a solid one, but she was never a master of tactics. "What do _you_ need _us_ to do?"

"Join the defense." Homura said simply, while looking at Kyouko and Hitomi in the eyes. "You two are the best trump cards I can get my hands on. The Eldar—and Tomoe Mami—will also join you in the defense, and the soldiers are already mobilizing to construct the defensive lines with more reinforcement from the _Invicta_ coming down every hour. There's not much time to waste, so get to it. Any questions?"

"Stop ordering us around." Kyouko spoke defiantly, even though her legs were already moving toward the stairs. In fact, she did not even know why she said the words; she knew the plan to be the best one they had even from a non-expert point of view, and she had no objections. "And what about the… the space ship? If it can do what you claim it can, then why don't we use it?"

"The lance batteries on the _Invicta_ could produce blasts equivalent to two trillion tons of TNT. Toned down to the minimum and accounting for atmospheric diffraction and blooming, it's still comparable to about a thousand tons of high explosives per shot." Homura stared into Kyouko's eyes; she was not messing around. "If we are going to use it, we're using it outside of the town; it's seen enough death and destruction as it is."

"I'll go say my goodbyes." Hitomi nodded without waiting for Kyouko's reply, and quickly walked out of the room.

"Strange girl." Kyouko whispered after Hitomi left, before she laid a box of chocolate-covered cookie sticks on the map. "Take care of Sayaka for me, all right?"

"If you care about her so much, you should do it yourself, Sakura Kyouko." Homura turned away with a flick of hair. "I'm not going to be responsible. If you want her well cared for, you better come back alive."

Kyouko smiled, before resting her spear on her shoulder and walking toward Sayaka: "Yeah. Ain't nothin' I can't handle yet."

She then brought her face close to Sayaka's and whispered: "Ya jus' watch. I'm gonna kick dat fuckin' daemon's ass so good, ya'd got no choice bu' ta wake up."

* * *

><p>Hitomi quietly ascended the stairs to the second floor of Homura's house, only to see it filled with people… and body bags. The floor was converted to a makeshift infirmary, and the casualties were carried here.<p>

She only saw a handful of bodies. Due to fortifications the soldiers made in advance, casualties were minimal from their contact with the Tyranids. Still, the presence of the dead made her a little uncomfortable, even as she reminded herself of the death she had caused.

Perhaps it was because whatever she had slain were not human but grotesque mutations of people, and right then she was standing amongst a small collection of perfectly human bodies even though she could not see their face. The smell of rubbing alcohol was a little nauseating as her stomach grumbled and churned.

She quietly pushed aside some soldiers sitting on top of empty crates and standing around, and arrived in front of the room labelled "Inpatient" in plain English letters. Kane must be in there, she thought.

"You would waste precious seconds to see him?" The voice spoke uninvited in her head. "Ah, but it is the hope that he would still be alive that motivated you, isn't it?"

"Shut up." Hitomi spoke out aloud, "You know, after all this is done and dealt with, you're next."

"Ah, but you are also basing that on the hope of your survival."

"It'll be better if I die in the process though. At least, that way, you can't take me and twist me into a monster."

"I could simply take you now."

"Try me." Hitomi challenged as she came up to the door and knocked. The voice fell silent; both it and Hitomi knew that there was no way it could take control of her just yet. It needed strength, and Hitomi was feeding the fire with her hope.

The door opened, and a woman dressed in field medic attire greeted her with a salute. Neither one of them spoke; the two women knew that they would not be able to understand each other even if they talked.

The room was quite small. It seemed that it was Homura's study, as there were still some books scattered around the room, along with some scuffle marks on the floor and a strange patch of brightness under where the bookshelf would be.

There was only one bed in the room, and Kane lay peacefully on there. He was hooked with several wires to the machine to his left, and to his right there was a stand on which a bag of reddish was being infused into him intravenously. Hitomi walked closer to him. His torso was bandaged heavily, but blood still seeped out through the bandages. His breathing was steady and soft, as if he was simply sleeping peacefully.

After a moment of hesitation, she brought her face close to Kane's, before planting a small kiss on his cheek and whispering:

"I'll come back for you as you have come back for me. I promise."

By the time Kane would wake up, she would be on the front lines battling the daemon. It mattered not how he thought of her; she was going to make him proud.

Hitomi decided with a clenched fist as she left the building.

* * *

><p>Kyouko and Hitomi headed to the frontlines a couple of blocks away from the monstrous daemon's position. As they approached, the sound of heavy fighting started to fill the air.<p>

"Say, what wish did ya make?" Kyouko asked telepathically as she hopped from rooftop to rooftop, while Hitomi stuck to the ground route as she was nowhere close to as agile as Kyouko was.

"I'm not going to tell you." Hitomi answered in a somewhat frigid tone.

"Aw, c'mon." The roar of jet engines could be heard overhead as military fighter jets swooped down to the altitude of skimming over the rooftops by a few hundred feet. As soon as the monster was in sight, they unloaded all of their missiles on their wings, before breaking away as quickly as they could.

The missiles screamed as they darted toward the daemon. It saw these fast projectiles, but it was not fast enough to intercept them with its axe. All of them hit their mark, and thunderous explosions forced Hitomi and Kyouko to shield their ears.

They were then at Phase Line Alpha, the first line of defense in Homura's trap. The roar of weapons quickly drowned out any attempt to communicate verbally, as Guardsmen ran from place to place to relay orders in person. It was an impressive display of engineering effort, as fortifications were erected within hours with sandbags.

However, the defensive line was not enough to hold back the horde. It was a stop-gap measure, used to buy more time for Phase Lines Bravo and Charlie, and even those were used to buy time for the final showdown in the forest. Already, Bloodletter daemons were closing in on the phase line with their agile dashes. Bolter shells tore off arms and punched large ugly holes in some of them, but they simply disappeared in a burst of Warp fire and sinister laughter. The distance between the daemonic wave and the line was quickly shrinking, and if they hop over the sandbags, the Guardsmen would not stand a chance.

Hitomi quickly got to work. With a leap, she glided over the sandbags and met a Bloodletter with her hammer, parrying its zweihander with the shaft of her hammer. And then, before the daemon could strike again, Hitomi swung the hammer and caved the side of the daemon in with a solid hit. Aquamarine lightning crackled as the daemon screeched in pain, its body lighting up in strange purple flames. She swung the hammer again, crushing the creature's skull as it burned out of reality with a gurgled screech.

Kyouko was not to be outdone by Hitomi, who had just become a Magical Girl on that day. She leaped over the sandbag with a graceful hop, and immediately blended into a crimson blur with an extremely fast sprint. A Bloodletter sought to avoid her charge at the last second and carve her with its blade; it was pitifully slow against Kyouko, as the moment it moved its leg, Kyouko's spear impaled it through its chest. Making a screeching stop, Kyouko whipped her spear around, and threw the grotesque body off of her spear. The creature howled and screamed as it spontaneously combusted, burning away into oblivion.

Kyouko held her spear with one hand, and glanced around at her adversaries. There were a ring of creatures gathering around the two Magical Girls, having obviously determined that they were the highest priority threat at the moment. Due to these two circles, the number of daemons that could assault the Guardsmen's front lines were severely reduced; but the number of smaller daemons around her was steadily increasing, and she could feel the large daemon approach.

A screaming bolt of azure distracted her for a bit. The Eldar sniper was sitting on top of a house and providing precise fire support for them; that bolt of sapphire light cracked a Bloodletter's head open, scattering bits and pieces of it burning in warp flame around. A moment later, she caught a white-robed figure dancing into the fray, slicing apart these daemons as if they were made from butter. Though using a spear like Kyouko was, the Far Seer was far more graceful in its handling; it was as if she was a dancer, going from "partner" to "partner" and effortlessly cutting her "partners" apart while frying several of those who tried to attack her with brilliant white lightning from her fingertips.

The moment she paid attention to the Far Seer was the moment that the Bloodletters around her decided to swarm. They had an excellent sense of combat tactics, but even their brutish strength was no match for Kyouko's raw speed and reflexes. She simply disappeared from view; the next moment, the spear—having transformed into a sectioned staff—curled around a Bloodletter. With a fierce shout, Kyouko whipped the spear around like a flail, with her captive at its head. A series of dull impacts later, the circle was partly shattered, and her captive burned out in a burst of wicked warp fire.

Hitomi approached her problem in a different way. With each slam, visible shockwaves of energy blew away everything around the impact along with thunderous crackles of energy. Somehow, Hitomi's weapon was even more effective than Sayaka's. The target of the hammer strike was literally blown apart: each strike sent a creature bursting into flames, its limbs and extremities separating from its body into fiery fragments.

Kyouko had the time to spare a glance at Hitomi, and the efficiency of the green-haired girl roused even more suspicion in Kyouko's mind. But she had no time to pursue those doubts, for the next wave of creatures were fast approaching, and the large daemon was getting close.

The smaller creatures—the Bloodletters—were easy enough to dispose. Between Kyouko's speed and Hitomi's power, there was precious little these Bloodletters could do to harm them; all they managed to inflict on Kyouko were a couple of small cuts and scrapes.

But the large one—the daemon that Sayaka had summoned—was another matter. As it approached, the remainder of the smaller daemons scattered into the streets. Helicopter gunships hovered around the creature, killing any stragglers that happened to leak into the streets with barrages of rockets and hails of cannon fire; but the constant bombardment of cruise missiles and anti-tank missiles did little to the Bloodthirster, as it marched on, the earth shuddering at its every step.

And then, it set its eyes on Kyouko.

The axe came crashing down on top of Kyouko a split second after she took off. The axe sank deep into the asphalt, leaving a horrific gash on the road along with cracks in both directions. Effortlessly it removed the huge axe, and turned its head.

Kyouko could not help but stand in awe of its presence. Over three stories tall, it towered over anything and everything in the vicinity; even the helicopter gunships seemed insignificant when compared to it, not to mention the lithe Far Seer, who slipped out of the fray as effortlessly as a skater on ice.

The giant whip in the Bloodthirster's left hand was no joking matter; it coiled around the tail of one gunship, and slammed it into another. Burning aluminum showered down from the explosion all around Kyouko and Hitomi, who were then regrouped together, merely steps away from the large creature.

Hitomi readied herself; in a moment's notice, she could be trading blows with the monstrous winged creature in front of them. However, Kyouko held her spear out in front of Hitomi; the intention of that could not be clearer:

"The final fight ain't here, girl scout." Kyouko said telepathically as both of them scattered from an axe strike. "We gotta brin' in dat dere big bastard to dat spot so da ship can pummel it with its lasers, ya dig?"

"If we can stop it here, we won't need so many sacrifices!"

"Ya think ya can stop dat damn monster by yerself? Y'know, we got another fight later this week, an' it'll be as tough as this one. Don't go an' get yerself killed so early…" The Bloodthirster curled its whip around a bus, and tossed it like a match box at Kyouko. It flew too slowly; she used the bus' momentum to leap behind the sandbags. The defensive line was largely abandoned as Guardsmen were falling back as they were instructed; only a couple of machine gun nests were still active, spewing deadly bolts to little effect at the monstrosity in front of them.

"… Sayaka'll need ya, y'know. When she wakes up, she'll want ya by her side, tellin' 'er everythin'll be all right. So stay alive."

"… No, she wouldn't." Hitomi responded. "She wouldn't."

"…" What made her say that? Kyouko scratched her head as Hitomi quickly rolled out of the way of another axe smash. "Anyway, this ain't no smart move. We're most fortified back at the rally point. We'd get a better shot of killin' this thing and savin' 'er there. Let's go."

As Hitomi reluctantly agreed, a trio of Valkyries screamed into battle with their nose-mounted multilas blazing. Dozens of rockets streaked out of their launchers mounted under the wings and peppered the Bloodthirster with explosions for about five seconds before six large missiles slammed into the creature's armor.

It was dazed by the extra-large explosions; the pause was enough to have the Valkyries fly by the creature and out of its attack range, strafing it with their door-mounted heavy bolters as they went. There were military fighter jets in the sky; they seemed to be confused for a moment before swooping down into an attack dive and unleashing their arsenal, pummeling the Bloodthirster with guided bombs and missiles of their own.

"C'mon!" Kyouko was almost certain that her ears were bleeding from the fireworks. "We ain't got no better chance than this to fall back!"

* * *

><p>"The target has reached Phase Line Charlie." The Colonel's voice was accompanied by a flurry of explosions in the background. "As planned, we're packing up and will make a fighting retreat to the Rally Point."<p>

"Roger that, Colonel. What are the reactions from the local armed forces?" Homura asked quietly as she sat by Madoka's bed. The pink-haired girl had fallen asleep; the physical and mental burdens placed on her for the day were simply too strong for her to handle.

"We did not establish channels of communication with them, ma'am. My Guardsmen were under orders not to communicate with them, though I doubt we can understand each other." The Colonel replied. "For now, they're not shooting at us; I'd say that's a good sign."

"Casualties?"

"We lost about a company of men in fighting the Xenos, and about a dozen men during this operation. The girls were kicking ass and taking names out there, ma'am; thanks to them, we could achieve much with few casualties." The Colonel tried to suppress his excitement. "Though, I have to admit, they—and the Xenos that are helping us—are making my men uneasy."

"As long as they're not deserting their duties, I couldn't care less about how they think of our allies."

"We will manage, ma'am. The Commissariat will enforce discipline if needed; I'm pleased to report that there have been no executions for dereliction of duty yet."

"Keep it up. I'll be heading to the Rally Point momentarily. Akemi out." Homura quietly terminated the communication. So far, her plan was working. The military did not interfere with her operations as she had predicted; instead, they were working _with_ the Guardsmen, even though there were no communications.

Perhaps it was because they had seen the Guardsmen's intent through actions. Perhaps it was because they knew the Greater Bloodthirster was too much for them to handle. Perhaps it was because of some other things; it mattered not at this point. As long as the military was content in assisting the Guardsmen, she could be happy.

She quietly pulled out her storm bolter. Along with its modifications, it weighed heavily in her hand, its gray metal gleaming in the dim lights of the basement. She mulled over the weapon, her eyes lingering around the white two-headed Aquila emblazoned on it, before she disassembled the weapon even though she could do it within a minute with blindfolds on her eyes.

The weapon sprawled over the small desk in pieces. It was well cared for, its mechanisms carefully cleaned and oiled just recently, but it made no difference to Homura. She picked up each of its barrels, and meticulously ran a small metal brush through its rifled interior. Her hands trembled as she put the trigger assembly back together. She could feel her heartbeat accelerating, as if it were going to jump out of her chest.

"Nervousness. Excitement. Fear. I read these from you, my child." He rumbled.

"I'm about to head to exterminate that daemon." She whispered as she quietly put in the last piece of her storm bolter. She let the bolter rest on the small table and stood up. She felt the dampness of the basement for the first time, the cold darkness seeping through her pores into her bones.

"It is unlike anything you've faced before. Though you have the assistance of many allies, it would still be a hard-fought battle." His rumble was softer this time. "You are worried."

"I have prepared for everything. The plan accounted for many variables, yet still more were unseen." Homura sat down beside Madoka. The pink-haired girl seemed to sleep in peace and bliss, completely unaware of the chaos of the outside world. "If… if everything fails, I would not have another chance, and neither would you."

"Then do not fail." He said with an authority that sent a pulse of chills down her spine. "Failure is not an option, my child; not for you, and not for me."

"Then… may I…?" Homura quietly placed her hand on Madoka's cheek. "Is it time…?"

He sighed. "You still feel insecure about your preparations. You still feel insecure about your abilities."

"I failed to protect her for more times than I could count." She sighed. "Furthermore, this time, the events have deviated far from what we have seen before. Forgive me if I do not possess the confidence you desire."

"There would be significant risk to her, if she is not yet ready. Would you take the chance?"

"That is for her to decide, is it not? You did promise me, after all."

The voice sighed. "But the choice at hand is yours, my child."

"I… I'll be on my way, Father." Quietly, she brought her face close to Madoka's, and planted a kiss on her cheeks. "Please watch over her for me."

Gently, she laid the Rosario between Madoka's collar bones, and tied it behind her neck. The Rosario released a small burst of light, before quieting down as it was before.

"I shall always protect you, my child."

With that echoing in her mind, she ascended the stairs.

* * *

><p>"Go! Fall back to the rally point! Now!"<p>

Kyouko used her spear to sweep the area clean of Bloodletters. The small daemons were like pests; as long as the Bloodthirster remained, each time one was banished back into the Warp, a replacement spawned around the greater daemon, resulting in an inexhaustible supply of foes for Kyouko and Hitomi.

For their part, they were effective and efficient; they held back the daemonic horde with fire support from Valkyries, machine gun nests, and the precision fire from the Eldar. They had fallen back as planned, fighting a fierce defense at each Phase Line, and finally succeeded in dragging the daemonic host into the forest and out of the city but it was not far enough. The lance batteries on the _Invicta_ were extremely destructive; if there was insufficient buffer space, the collateral damage would be unthinkable.

It was not as if the collateral damage was not already appalling; Kyouko smiled bitterly to herself. The path through which they dragged the host through the city was almost completely destroyed; piles of rubble buried the streets, and broken bodies were scattered and buried everywhere. They must have destroyed dozens of city and suburban blocks in the fighting. For what it was worth, the military and the Imperial Guard used mostly precision munitions to attempt to reduce collateral damage, but the fighting was too intense.

The Bloodthirster roared, and Kyouko had to backflip away from the thunderous crash of its axe wedging itself into the earth. Trees snapped like twigs in a storm in the wake of the strike, and Kyouko breathed a quiet breath of relief as she tried to steady her stance.

Her body complained loudly with bursts of pain and shudders. Ever since she got to the front lines, she had been fighting against the horde for what must seemed like eternity. The fact was that they fought through the night and it was just hours before noon, even though it never got any brighter due to the lead-colored clouds that covered the sky.

She spared a glance at Hitomi and saw the equally-exhausted girl carrying an injured Guardsman on her shoulder. Her hammer was bloodied, with bits of flesh and blood sticking to them. Her Magical Girl battle dress was ripped and torn in several places, with patches of blood spattered over the fabric.

Even though it was her first day on the job, Hitomi was not given the pleasantries of being a new Magical Girl. She was dropped right in the thick of things, having little time to be trained or briefed on her powers.

Kyouko quickly parried a couple of sword strikes with her spear and leaped back. They were only a couple hundred meters from the designated area. Her strength and endurance had held firm against the enemy's push so far; she silently prayed that her body would not fail her then.

Kyouko dashed back as a quintet of Valkyries screamed overhead. The guns on these aircrafts may not be able to halt the advance of the horde completely, but they provided enough cover for Kyouko to fall back a couple hundred meters. With a snap of its monstrous whip, the Bloodthirster caught a Valkyrie right on its canopy. The whip smashed the canopy, sending the bird crashing into the forest before exploding into a pillar of blackened smoke.

As the Valkyries made their pass, a handful of cruise missiles slammed into the Bloodthirster and another flight of ground support aircrafts poured their payloads onto it. Knowing from previous experience, Kyouko never expected the daemon to stop because of them; indeed, it kept taking one giant stride after another, kicking over fallen trees and stomping its hooved footprints into the ground.

At the rally point, the Guardsmen had already dug in deep around the kill zone. Fortifications were hastily erected: heavy-bolter nests and missile sites littered the area, all of them interconnected with trenches that would shield the Guardsmen from lance shot blasts. These defenses may not be enough, but it was all they could do given the limited timeframe.

Kyouko quickly dashed into the kill zone, knowing the Bloodthirster's attention would be focused on her once the air cavalry had exhausted their ammunition. She would then use her speed and agility to move into the trenches, and hopefully survive the blasts.

Homura watched through a pair of binoculars as the creature approached the kill zone. The _Invicta_ had already received targeting information, and it was in geosynchronous orbit over this spot. All that remained was to lure the Bloodthirster into the blast zone, and pound it to dust with the ship's lance batteries.

"I got it where ya wanted!" Kyouko skidded to a halt and spun around as the Bloodthirster took its final step into the kill zone. The lesser daemons were attempting to swarm into the trenches and slaughter the Guardsmen, but the crossfire from heavy bolters and lasguns quickly convinced them that it was not a good idea.

"Akemi to _Invicta._" Homura whispered into the radio. Both the Colonel and the Regimental Commissar stood calmly behind her, their expressions grim. "Fire salvo, over."

"Roger that. Salvo authorized. Firing."

Kyouko dove into the trench as the first laser beam hit. The crimson pulse shot through the clouds, punching a large hole in the overcast sky, and slammed into the creature with an explosion so deafening that Kyouko could not even hear her own scream. Bloodletters around the daemon were instantly vaporized, while the others screamed and flailed as they burned in a strange blue-purple flame.

And then, the shockwave hit. Kyouko had to hold her breath, as did Hitomi, who hid beside her, and every Guardsman in the trenches. The shockwave stripped leaves from trees, and blew up a storm of dust and dirt that quickly fell into the trenches like a shower.

"Holy sh—!" Kyouko took a deep breath and exclaimed, but she was interrupted by a second shot. This one landed a little to the left, but still managed to hit the mark. A column of iridescent plasma glowed along the laser's path; much of the energy from the shot were dispersed by the atmosphere.

A salvo from the cruiser was four shots, and each shot at least partially hit its mark. As a result from such massive firepower, the air around them was scorching hot, and wind patterns became unpredictable.

"_Invicta_ to the ground, what's the BDA, over?" The smoke had just started to clear as _Invicta_ radioed in. Homura quickly surveyed the blast zone with her binoculars, and not the least surprisingly found the large silhouette.

She knew that a much-weakened salvo of lance fire would not stop it. After all, Sayaka was considered one of the more prodigal Magical Girls in terms of psychic potential; she squandered her potential by not knowing the truth before her transformation.

But that was another matter. Homura made a loud "tut" as she spoke into the radio: "Akemi to _Invicta, _BDA is minimal on target. Repeat; I say again, repeat."

Another four shots came down from the heavens, and Kyouko had started to question the sanity of such a strategy. The air became unbearably hot due to the energy scattered by the shots, and she could even hear crackles of mini-lightning amidst all the madness.

These four shots still failed to annihilate the creature. Homura could not wait until the smoke clears; if it were ineffective, such a wait would allow it to directly assault the command post, and then slaughter everyone present.

The creature took a step, and Homura could finally discern its features. Most of its flesh was charred, but its bronze armor was still intact. The whip and the axe, likewise, were intact, but they were also glowing red as if they were molten. The creature seemed to be in pain, as it hissed and puffed with some intensity, but overall, it was unharmed.

"Oi, Homura!" Kyouko called out telepathically to her, "The air here is miserable! If you fire any more shots, it's gonna cook us all alive!"

Homura failed to understand why these shots were insufficient. Each shot would have had the power of over a thousand tons of high explosives; no single object in the world should be able to withstand one shot, let alone eight somewhat consecutive shots. The fact that the daemon did solidified the point that it must be eliminated; if the military on the planet knew how much yield the lance shots were, they would have sent over their strategic nuclear missiles and obliterated everything around Mitakihara.

But the situation was that she was unable to call in any more shots; at least, not until the convection flow cooled the air down. She slammed her fist onto the table: "Fuck. Akemi to _Invicta_, BDA is minimal. I say again, BDA is minimal. Cease fire. Cease fire."

The creature roared again. It was an angry roar, one that almost shook Kyouko's resolve to the core. It intended to have them pay for what they had done.

"All right." Homura drew in a deep breath, and spoke both out aloud to the commanders of the regiment and telepathically to the Magical Girls and the Eldar, "Here's what we're going to do. The bastard obviously knows that staying in that zone would be death. We're going to dump so much lead into it that it's not going to get a chance to move out of the zone. As soon as the air cools down, I'll signal on radio to resume firing. We'll wear the bastard down—"

"Charlie Four, Actual! We have Xeno contact. I say again, we have Xeno contact on our flank! We require immediate fire support! They're all over us! I say again, we need immediate fire support!"

"Bravo Two, Actual, we have Xeno contact behind us! We require reinforcements and support! Where the hell did they come from!?"

Homura's heart dropped at the incoming radio message. She had considered many variables, not the least of which was the Tyranids, and knew they were going to throw a wrench into her plans, but she had not taken into account that eight shots from the _Invicta_ would heat the air so much that she would be forced to cease fire on the damned creature.

The Tyranids seemed to know this somehow, and they had chosen Homura's most vulnerable moment to strike.

"All right. This changes everything." Homura quietly set down the radio and the binocular on the table, and flicked her hair. "Colonel, Commissar, you're now in command of the regiment. Your primary objective is to keep the Tyranids from interfering with our work in the Kill Zone. Keep as many men alive as possible, and do not hesitate to use any form of support necessary."

The two men stood at attention and saluted as Homura exited the command post: "Kyouko and Mami, I need you to deal with the Tyranids. They can't be threatening our flank when our center is being pressed hard by the daemon."

"But what about…"

"I'll deal with it." Homura and Hitomi spoke simultaneously as both walked into the kill zone.

* * *

><p>Kyouko slid into the trenches at the end of her sprint. All around her, Guardsmen were firing their weapons; some of them even speared a couple with their bayonets.<p>

It was absolute chaos. Some of these grotesque creatures had gotten into the trenches, but they were quickly cut down by a hail of laser fire. These creatures were not in the least made for combat at range, but they still came relentlessly; there must have been hundreds of corpses scattered on the battlefield already, and there was still no end in sight.

Just how many people did these… these Tyranids infect?

Kyouko had no time to answer that, as a Hybrid came screeching at her from above. Thrusting her spear upward, she skewered it through its torso, and with a twirl she slid its lifeless body off of her spear. Although the Guardsmen had the advantage, it would be foolish to think that the battle would be easily won; should these creatures get into the trenches in numbers, they would quickly overwhelm the line and spill into the other trenches like a flood.

Quickly hopping over the trench, she made a mad counter-charge into the Genestealers, impaling one on her spear. The spear segmented into a flail, with the corpse as the head; Kyouko bashed several other creatures, until the corpse was nothing but bits of flesh scattered around her.

"This is like a mother-fucking zombie invasion here!" Kyouko pinged Mami telepathically as she tore off the head of a creature with a swing of her segmented spear shaft. "Seriously, how the fuck did they infect this many people in such a short time!?"

"Genestealers operate in secrecy until the time is ripe." The Far Seer chimed in. She was likewise using a spear, but her movements were much more fluid and artistic than Kyouko's. She had been slaughtering these creatures left and right, her absurdly large spear slicing them apart with laughable ease. "The fact that they are making tactical moves right now means that they should easily be able to overwhelm the military forces on planet."

"But they didn't take Homura's friends into account." Mami commented with a smile in her voice.

"Indeed." Azrael rumbled as he stopped a creature's lunge at a distracted Kyouko with a bright blue beam. "But no more chatter. Pay attention to your surroundings, you insufferable whelp."

Blushing, Kyouko knocked the corpse off of its trajectory with her heel to its side: "I know that, you arrogant jackass."

But before she could retort further, a four-armed monstrosity took her by surprise. The creature leaped on top of her and pinned her down, its extra arms lunging for her head. Kyouko blocked the claws with her spear, and a stomp with both her feet on its torso kicked it off of her as she rolled up.

"Purestrains identified!" The Far Seer called telepathically.

"Purestrains identified, copy!" Azrael landed a couple of musket shots on the creature as it flew into midair from Kyouko's kick. "They are pulling out all the stops!"

"There must be a high-ranking member of the Genestealer Cult nearby for them to have such elite members." The Far Seer just bisected a Purestrain down its center line. "Be wary."

"Just as well. We could cut the head off of this Tyranid invasion by killing that abomination." Azrael scoffed.

Kyouko quickly engaged another Purestrain Genestealer, bashing its hard exoskeleton with the shaft of her spear. If it had much of an edge, she could have sliced it apart with that; but it did not, and the damage it dealt to the Purestrain was minimal. Instead, using her superior speed, she rushed the Purestrain as it flew in the air, and caught it with her spear. The tip penetrated its chitinous armor and tore at the tender flesh inside apart, before erupting from the back of the creature. She slammed the creature on the ground, stomped on its exoskeleton with her foot, ripped the spear out from its chest, and then crushed its head with another stab.

"Nicely done." Azrael complimented as he ripped another hybrid's head off with a beam. "Messy, but efficient."

"Incoming psyker." The Far Seer warned as she fried a trio of hybrids with forked psychic lightning, turning them into blackened charcoal and ash. "I can sense him. He is powerful."

"He must be the leader then." Kyouko assessed while readying her spear. She felt it, too; even though it was overshadowed by the daemon's presence, an immense pressure came out of the tree lines, one that almost made her knees buckle. She stood firm, however: "If we pop it, we'll stop the invasion?"

"It is never that simple, Sakura Kyouko." The Far Seer chuckled as the creatures retreated into the tree lines, "but killing it may just blunt the Tyranids' momentum of their invasion."

"Either way, we've gotta smoke it." Kyouko had made up her mind as she maintained her stance.

A humanoid shadow appeared from behind the tree lines. It was flanked by a pair of Purestrain Genestealers, and numerous hybrids formed a meat shield around it, only leaving its front exposed.

Through smoke and haze, Kyouko quickly made out the person at the center. He had flame-red hair impeccably cut with short, brisk strokes, and a face chiseled by time. His eyes—a blood red, the same as hers—shone through the thick veil of smoke and stared directly into hers. Unbefitting of his environment, he was wearing a priest's black overall, and his shoes a pair of gleaming leather to match.

It reminded her of someone she knew a long time ago; someone that took his families' and his own life upon discover of her sacrifice.

"Papa?"

Kyouko hesitated for a second.

That second proved to be fatal.

From behind her, a perfectly camouflaged claw struck. Before she could respond, the claw skewered her from back to fore, sprouting at around her navel. The creature behind her towered over her, being over 8 feet tall and grotesque in its appearance.

Kyouko could not scream as the creature lifted her up with its arm. Her world a whirl of colors, she could only gurgle in agony and tilt her head toward the man who resembled her father.

He took a couple of steps forward. A Guardsman took this opportunity to shoot at him, but a willing hybrid blocked the shot with its body. He pointed at the offending Guardsman with his index finger; a bolt of crimson lightning electrocuted the poor soldier, turning him into a chunk of smoldering charcoal.

"Lictor, Grid Bravo Five Charlie Two!"

"Lictor, check!"

"Lictor, Grid Charlie Five Charlie Three!"

"Check!"

"They're everywhere!"

Kyouko could not hear the panicked chatter of the Imperial Guard. She was discarded into a pile in front of the man, her body almost severed in the middle. Thanks to her Soul Gem, she barely remained conscious, but that was not a blessing; the pain and the pleasure induced by it was intense enough that she was certain that she was going mad from it.

He looked down at her. His eyes had nothing but cruel viciousness in it.

"You seem to mistake me for your relative." He smirked. No, he was not her father; she saw him hang himself with her own eyes. "It matters not. You shall be prime material for infection."

Before Kyouko could close her eyes, however, a brilliant streak of white thunder crashed against the barrier he put up. The Far Seer had come to her rescue, as did the Pathfinder when a blue bolt of energy carved a smoking hole through one of the Purestrain's head.

The Far Seer charged in with a flourish of her spear. Kyouko could not tilt her head; if she had, she would have seen the Lictor beast that wounded her lying in pieces on the ground. Though these beasts were stronger and faster than humans, they were still no match for Far Seer Kirahla, who tore through them like cutting butter.

He locked himself in a psychic duel with the Far Seer. Violent psychic energies swirled around them, creating a small maelstrom of frigid wind that made Kyouko shudder. She was almost numb to the pain after a bit; having most of her blood drained from her removed much of her body heat. But her senses were—to the contrary—much more active than before, and she found herself tracking the blur of movement between the Far Seer and him with ease.

A swing from the Far Seer's spear sliced his other guard with a clean cut. The priest engaged the Far Seer with empty hands, but he seemed to hold his own with thick barriers around his hands and the occasional crimson bolts of lightning threatening the Far Seer with annihilation.

The fight entranced Kyouko. Even though she could not move—even though her brain was numbed by the pain—she yearned to join the fight; she yearned to add a stroke of her own to this great piece of art.

The Far Seer lashed out with a whip of lightning. It curled around his arm and made him scream in pain. She had the upper hand. Discarding the spear to her side, she pulled out her own sword, and cut him apart from the neck to the waist with a clean slice like cutting bamboo.

"Futile…" His last word echoed in Kyouko's mind as well as the Eldar's. "The coming shadow cannot be stopped. You are all… food…"

The fight was over.

"Uniform Two, Actual, Xenos are retreating. Tending to casualties now."

As the burst of adrenaline faded from her and the last bit of blood flowing out of her, darkness clouded Kyouko's mind.

She remembered someone hoisting her up with their arms. And then, she blacked out.

It had been a good fight.

* * *

><p>The surface of the crater had melted into glass; the girls had to use magic to protect their feet from being seared, as the glass was still somewhat molten. Quietly, Homura had armed herself with an autocannon. Though she did not expect it to work well against the large daemon, it should have enough power to take out the smaller ones with a couple of shots.<p>

"Stand down." Hitomi hissed at Homura telepathically. "This monster is mine. She is my responsibility."

"The kill would be yours; rest assured." Homura answered in the same manner, "I will need your assistance in the future."

"Well." Hitomi smiled. "I'm not one to refuse help when it's offered to me."

With that, she leaped into the pillar of smoke and met the daemon's axe head-on with the shaft of her hammer. Without a place to set her feet, Hitomi was swatted into the crater by the impact, but she kept her stance and slid on the molten glass.

Homura could see the aura of power around her, a weak sphere of water green covering her body. Without further hesitation, she too walked into the crater, offing a Bloodletter with three tightly grouped shots. Her Soul Gem glowed a bright violet as the same light wrapped around the weapon, absorbing much of the recoil from each shot.

Hitomi was then leaping up again, striking a blow against the Bloodthirster's axe shaft. The burst of aquamarine lightning was bright but small compared to the Bloodthirster's size. Its whip then coiled around Hitomi's waist and tossed her aside as it took another step toward Homura. With the flash of several small magical circles as support, Hitomi back-flipped several times, and with one large magical circle as a platform she dashed toward the daemon in midair. A strike landed in its face and staggered it backward. The Bloodthirster let out a furious roar, and a handful of smaller Bloodletters leaped up to attempt to catch Hitomi in her midair dance.

Homura was not about to let that happen. She braced herself against the ground and fired her autocannon at the lesser daemons. The shells exploded close to them, lodging shrapnel into their flesh; some of them crashed straight into the small wiry figures, blasting them apart in a shower of shrapnel and Warp fire.

A Bloodletter met Hitomi in mid-air, only to have her slam it out of the way with her shoulder. The curtain of deadly flak shrapnel bounced off of Hitomi's aura, creating water-green sparks as the shield around her shimmered and flickered. With her momentum slowed, the Bloodthirster was able to swat Hitomi with the flat face of its axe, bashing her away from it.

A string of explosions dragged across the creature's face. Homura directed her autocannon at it, landing five well-placed shots on its head and temporarily blinding it. The disorientation was good enough for Hitomi to land another solid smack on its jaw, staggering it backwards. And then, a flight of the military's fighter jets unloaded their arsenal on the Bloodthirster, seeing how Homura and Hitomi had successfully halted its advance. Thunderous explosions blew apart its charred and blackened skin to reveal the tender flesh under it, and Homura took this opportunity to light up the large gashes with a few incendiary rounds.

The creature was obviously in pain; even the tone of its roars changed from a deep rumble into a higher-pitched screech. Another flight of ground-support jets dumped incendiary bombs into the crater: white phosphorus mixed with napalm burned brightly and flooded the area with smoke.

It was difficult for Homura to see anything; the smoke was so thick and heavy that she could barely breathe. Still, she knew where the creature was. A barrage of incendiary shells hit the creature on the torso, though it was unlikely to do much more damage than the bombs.

Hitomi, however, had a chance. The smoke obscured her water-green barrier, allowing her to strike the back of the creature's neck with a solid hit. Reeling in pain, the Bloodthirster could not retaliate as Hitomi smacked it across the face with her hammer.

Homura fended off the lesser daemons, sending one after another to oblivion with her autocannon. Although the weapon was unwieldy and it barely did anything to the Bloodthirster, it wreaked havoc on the minor daemon horde. The Bloodletters were difficult to hit; luckily, even though her ability was limited to one-second bursts while she stabilized the weapon with her magic, it was not a problem putting one or two rounds into her target.

The smoke gradually cleared, and Homura saw just how hard Hitomi had been attacking the Bloodthirster. A bright green globe, Hitomi danced and whirled around the creature's head, landing blow after blow with her hammer in rapid succession, not giving a single moment of rest for the daemon. She could also see Bloodletters jumping onto the larger daemon's shoulder, trying to reach Hitomi and stop her from stunning their leader.

Well, she was not about to let that happen. Homura leaped into mid-air, and extended a magic circle behind her to compensate for the recoil as she fired a spray of rounds at them, knocking several off of the large daemon with direct hits. Several more were hit in mid-air, each hit blowing them apart into a shower of Warp fire and shrapnel.

Hitomi pounded her hammer into the Bloodthirster's nose, sending a bright burst of lightning bolts spraying out from the impact site. Her vicious strike on the daemon's jaw ripped its lower mouth from its joints, showering herself with a spray of blood and gore. She focused all of her power on the hammer, and smashed into the Bloodthirster's skull. The hammer caved into its skull with a sickening crunch; her scream as it did echoed across the chaos of the battle, seemingly making time pause as everyone around the area froze for a moment.

And then, the daemon's construction started to collapse. Its axe and whip dropped on the ground; Warp fire consumed them gradually in a conflagration. It clutched its face and wailed, its pained howls accompanying the crackles of Warp fire as it consumed the daemon from its extremities. As their leader collapsed and faded out of existence, the smaller daemons also gradually faded in bursts of Warp fire.

Homura dropped her weapon and dashed toward Hitomi, who was then in free fall, her aura having completely disappeared. The strike must have exhausted her power, and she fell unconscious.

Catching the green-haired Magical Girl in her arms, Homura resumed the flow of time. For her first day as a Magical Girl, Hitomi had done admirably.

Homura smiled. It would be great indeed, if this could bring Sayaka back from oblivion.

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

Update cycle will get slower and slower, because work has taken a lot of time out of my life.

What do you guys think? Will Sayaka be able to wake up, or will all their work be futile? Will Homura have to start the timeline anew?

Donate to the review offering box today! Your Emperor and your Goddess demands it!


	18. XVII: The Final Sign Left

**XVII: The Final Sign Left**

Void.

The void was beautiful. It was a deep sapphire drape, dotted with diamond sparkles.

"Greetings, child."

It was a deep voice. The rumbling echo made him sound as if He were a god.

"… who are you? Where am I?" The questions were meek, as was the person that responded.

"You are safe."

The voice said. Although he was abrasive and hoarse, somehow she felt at ease; his words carried a soothing magical quality to them, and she answered with a small squeal.

"I still don't know who you are…"

"I have been watching over Akemi Homura, my child. We have worked together toward our shared goal."

"Homura-chan…?!"

She suddenly remembered; her limbs violently flailed as she floated in the void, but it achieved little.

"Is she okay?"

"She is, for the time being." He answered. His low rumble again put Madoka at ease. It was as if she were lying in her father's gentle embrace. She could feel his warmth; a gentle breeze caressed her as if it were her father's hand. "But many more trials await her, as they do for you."

"Are you… one of the… the things… that Kyubey put in Homura?" And suddenly, she remembered.

"Rest assured, child, that I am not your enemy, nor am I associated with that creature." He rumbled with a chuckle. "There is much that you must learn. Much have been concealed from you, and I shall reveal it. But it is not yet time for you to be aware of the full extent of your importance and your responsibilities, for you are not yet ready."

"… What do you mean?"

"For you to understand the weight upon your shoulders, you must first gaze into history. As we observed you, so shall you observe yourself and your surroundings through our eyes. I shall explain everything as soon as we are out of danger."

"Danger…!" She shivered. "Sayaka-chan…!"

"She should be safe physically, for the time being." The voice answered with a smile. "Akemi Homura and her compatriots had succeeded in achieving their primary objective. Rest for the moment, my child; harsher trials and tribulations would soon follow in the wake of this relief."

* * *

><p>Out of all times, now!<p>

Homura stared calmly at the approaching Space Marines and cursed her fortune. The Guardsmen did not put up any resistance as the super soldiers cut a swath of death through their lines, opting instead to scramble out of their way. The Colonel made the right decision; the Guardsmen, no matter how well-equipped and well-trained, were no match for them.

"Would I be able to either convince them that they should ally themselves with me, or do I have to kill them?" Homura asked herself, before the echo of her voice inside her head poked at her with a stick as a response. He was no longer with her, she remembered. He belonged to Madoka, as He had always been.

The pang of sadness made her sigh. It was no time to mull over recent changes; she had to face the oncoming threats, and each of them were at least two tons in weight.

The Colonel and the Commissar stood behind her. She spared them a glance, and could only imagine the fear and terror in their hearts as they maintained their steely expression. They were facing the Emperor's finest warriors, after all, with no one but a Magical Girl, who they had every reason to betray and brand as a witch.

Homura chuckled under her breath. It would be the ultimate irony for Magical Girls, who was created to fight Witches, to be burned as a witch. She was not about to allow that fate to befall her. Besides, Madoka still needed her. For everyone's sake, she had to prevail.

The Marines came almost within her arm's reach. They could effortlessly reach her with their chainswords, but the leader—Sergeant Dividus, Homura recalled—raised his bolter with one hand and pointed it at Homura's forehead.

"Where is Gideon Kane?" Dividus' rumble had an electronic tinge to it when it came out of the vox caster. "Speak, and I shall grant you the Emperor's mercy."

Homura stared into the barrel of the gigantic weapon. She had seen what these weapons do to flesh and blood, and she tried not to think about it. All that mattered at the moment was to resolve this conflict between them as peacefully as possible; if she could not, she had to ensure that she was the one that came out on top.

"He is not here." She replied, her shield at the ready. "He was gravely injured when the Tyranids attacked."

"Where is he now?"

"I cannot disclose such information."

Predictably, the bolter rang. By the moment Homura had stopped time, the shell was millimeters away from her forehead. It was as Kane had said; these Black Templars were unreasonable zealots, bent on the annihilation of all that they perceive as not adhering to the Emperor's Will, even though Homura had been carrying it out just as He had spoken.

Mortals could not ever hope to anticipate the will of a god, after all.

Homura walked calmly behind him and pulled out a demolition pack. Tearing off the adhesive strip, she slapped the brick of explosive onto Dividus' back. The Mark VII Aquila Armor could take an incredible amount of punishment, but it probably would not stand up to a pound of high explosive at point-blank range.

Time resumed and the explosion went off with a click of the detonator from Homura. Dividus stumbled forward, but it did not appear to have much of an effect on him; the ceramite armor certainly seemed to stand up against the blast quite well, contrary to Homura's assumptions. It was not without damages, though; the armor at the back had visibly caved in, but it did not seem to cause Dividus much trouble.

Instead, Dividus quickly whipped around and sent another dozen bolts in Homura's direction. The other Marines in his squad moved, as well; the two fully armored Marines closed in on Homura's left and right flank, firing their bolters as they approached, their chainswords on their hips. The neophytes, however, took up position in abandoned sections of the trenches, and proceeded to fire at Homura with their bolters.

Homura had to stop time again as a bolter shell whizzed past her face and found herself facing two dozen bolter shells targeting different parts of her from different directions. She had to be careful; if she touched any of them, the bolter shell would become unfrozen in time and she would be shot with horrific consequences.

Wriggling her body out of the grid of shots like a contortionist, Homura stopped for a moment before making her next move. Carefully pulling one after another SMAW rocket launchers from her shield, she arranged them so that each of them aimed at an armored marine's chest, and fired them one by one.

Time resumed and Dividus found himself on the receiving end of a barrage of SMAW rockets. He entered emergency maneuver mode; the first rocket missed by a hair as it zipped by between his side and his arm. The second one, however, found its mark, slamming itself into the marine's chest. The ceramite armor stopped the round but only barely; he could almost feel the heat of the molten metal jet getting dangerously close to his body. The blast knocked him off of his feet, and the third rocket missed by flying high over him.

Sullivus, however, was not so lucky. Two HEAT warheads arrived one after another, and somehow they hit approximately the same spot on his armor. Molten jets of metal shot through ceramite plate and liquefied the encased flesh, eliciting an agonizing scream. His other squad mate was killed very much in the same way; a rocket hit directly on his head and the explosion blew his head clean off, having mangled the helmet into a lump of molten metal.

With a roar of rage Dividus barreled down at Homura, who stood nonchalantly in front of him. She paused time again. Even though she had dealt with two of the fully-armored Space Marines, the recruits were pouring more and more pressure onto her. Dividus, on his own, was not much of a threat; a couple of well-placed rocket shots or even a satchel of C4 would bring him down. With fire support, however, he was much more worrisome. She had to bring down the recruits first. Pulling the pins off of some hand grenades, she placed them behind the recruits, and then dove into another section of the trench.

How did she…!?

Dividus' eyes widened as Homura disappeared in front of his eyes. And then, explosions rocked his senses. Torvus' reaction was fast enough that he dove out of the way before the grenades exploded, but his compatriots were not so keen. Bits of flesh and pieces of equipment came flying out from the trench as the grenades exploded; somehow they detonated at the same time and ripped the recruits to pieces, their ballistic armor too flimsy to stand up to such explosions.

Torvus quickly got up in the trench. Killing a Guardsman who was too slow to run away from him with a bolter shell, he popped out of cover to once again fire at Homura, but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, a human-shaped shadow loomed over him. Torvus looked up and immediately brought his bolter to bear on Homura, who flew over him in an impressive display of acrobatic skills.

He saw the weapon in her hand, and the violet glow in its ammunition drum mortified him. There was no escape as she pulled the trigger on her melta gun; the blast of searing energy melted the sand and dirt around him into molten lava. Torvus himself fared no better; the heat of a thousand suns seared the flesh of his upper body off of his bones and turned his bones into ashes.

"By the Emperor…" Dividus was on his own. That seemingly frail witch had, in an eye blink, eliminated everyone else on his squad. And she was coming for him next; holding the melta gun in one hand, she casually hopped over the smoldering crater where Torvus used to be, and strutted toward him.

He hesitated. If the Emperor had willed him the strength and resolve to defeat the heretic, why would He take his squad away from him in front of his very eyes, in but a single fleeting moment? Could it be that he was going against His divine plans in his zealous assault against the witch?

She stopped, and Dividus tensed with his chainsword in hand.

"Drop your weapons and surrender peacefully." She said. It was time for Dividus to make a choice: to continue to resist, or to be apprehended. It was not much of a choice to him; to face her would probably mean death, as he had no idea what her abilities were, but to surrender meant to disgrace himself and his chapter by giving in to the demand of a damned heretic.

It was the Emperor's will, then, that he should perish on the battlefield against her. Dividus steeled his resolve; soon, he would join his brothers in their sacrifice, and soon he would be by His side. With a ferocious battle cry, Dividus drove into a charge, his bolter and chainsword in hand. Homura did not move in the face of his charge, and it seemed that he was within range when he swung his chainsword.

But it was not to be.

"Time is not on your side."

When his sword descended, Homura was no longer in front of him. Dividus felt a chill travel up his spine as he turned around; there she was, standing calmly behind him with her melta gun in hand.

"May He forgive us all…"

She pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p>Madoka slowly opened her eyes and found herself lying on a stiff bed. A familiar soreness attacked her from all sides, as if she had just awoken from a long slumber after all of her energy was expended. Instinctively, she searched for her stuffed animals with which she was accustomed to cuddling, but she found none.<p>

It was then that she realized that she was not sleeping in her bedroom as she expected. The room was extremely Spartan in its contents, and the air reeked of dampness and mildew. A light bulb hung from the ceiling; with no lampshades, its light was painfully bright and pathetically dark at the same time. There were crates and barrels stacked everywhere inside the room; the two doors on opposite walls and the stairwell to what must be the above-ground portion of the house were not obstructed, however.

"Where… where am I?" Madoka rubbed her eyes and muttered.

"This is Akemi Homura's house, my child."

The voice's rumble almost caused Madoka to yelp in surprise. It was not a dream, after all. "You…"

"Yes, my child; I shall be with you, always."

Madoka finally felt the weight of the Rosario hanging on a golden chain around her neck. The metal quietly lay on her skin, its coldness biting into her skin.

It was not a dream. Kyubey's words were not a hallucination. Sayaka's transformation was not an illusion. Everything was real, and as they should be according to the twisted laws of the universe.

Madoka wanted to retch; her bowels produced nothing but spittles of acid, burning her throat and causing her to cough and gag. She felt sick; how could the world be so cruel as to take Sayaka away from the life of happiness and contentment she deserved? How could fate see fit to place that monster Kyubey on her world and cause all of them to suffer from sins that they never committed?

"That's because it's your destiny, my child. True strength derives not from success, but from adversity." He spoke softly. "Only through trials of fire and brimstone can one hope to emerge stronger; only through pain and suffering can one hope to be prepared for larger responsibilities."

"But… why me? Why us, of all people!?"

"Fair question, my child, but it is neither the time nor place to answer it."

"What _can_ you answer, then!?" Madoka screamed in frustration. "Stop talking in arcane riddles and vague prophesies! I need answers!"

"They will be provided to you, my child; all I ask is a bit more of your patience. All I ask is that you wait, until we have enough time alone to elaborate." He sighed. "Your friends are returning soon; and Miki Sayaka should be…"

"… Sayaka!" It was then that Madoka noticed Sayaka lying peacefully on the bed beside hers. She crawled to the azure girl's side and grabbed her hand under the blankets. To her great relief, Sayaka's hands were still warm; Madoka could still feel her strong and vibrant pulse on Sayaka's wrist. Her breathing was steady and deep, as if she was simply sleeping peacefully on the bed.

But Madoka knew the truth. It could not have been that she was merely asleep. The… the terrible roar and the creature in the center of the city must have been the result of Kyubey's machinations at Sayaka's expense. She was gone; if she were to open her eyes at the moment, Madoka was certain that she could no longer see the spark of life in those azure eyes.

"Sayaka… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" She cried. If she had not followed Hitomi to the warehouse, if she had not risked her life to save Hitomi's, everything would turn out differently.

"Madoka."

Homura's voice was a hoarse whisper. She descended from the flight of stairs, past stacks of crates and groups of drums, and walked straight to Madoka.

Madoka wiped the tears off of her face, before turning to face Homura, who was then already behind her. On her white blouse, there were splatters of blood and ichor all over the place. Her stockings were ripped in several place, and a small bloody gash dominated one of them, the blood having already dried and scabbed over it. Her face was smeared with soot and smoke, and her entire person smelled like she had walked through a fireworks display. Homura had just returned from an intense battle, and she had the appearance to show it.

"Homura-chan…" Madoka has thousands of questions to ask her. What exactly was the Rosario? Who was this presence that resided in her? What were they doing? What were they hoping to achieve?

"All of these questions shall be answered in time, my child. Your curiosity shall be sated; this I can promise you." The voice seemed to speak with a chuckle. "However, her survival possibly meant that the battle with the daemon and the aliens went well."

"Madoka. Father." Homura whispered directly into Madoka's mind. The tingling and pricking sensation of telepathic communication bothered Madoka somewhat; however, Homura's name for the voice took Madoka by surprise. "The daemon has been exterminated. However, unfortunately, the squad of Astartes turned against us. I had no choice but to terminate them, as well."

"What…? What do you mean, Homura-chan…?"

Madoka's confusion was broken by the voice's heavy sigh: "What the Black Templars lacked in doctrinal flexibility, they compensate with fanatical zeal and blind devotion. Though I mourn their loss, it did not come as a surprise to me."

"How is Sayaka doing?" Madoka was about to ask a question to follow up, but Homura fired her own question verbally before Madoka. "Is her vital signs stable?"

"As I have said, child; put down your questions for the time being. I shall answer them one by one in the near future. For now, we have matters much too important to ignore."

"… She's still breathing, her body's still warm, and her pulse is steady." Madoka had no other choice, as Homura did not seem like she would answer any questions. "Nothing's changed since I woke up."

"I see." Homura spoke quietly. "I thought that since there was no Grief Seed, perhaps her soul could be salvaged and returned to her body."

"There has been no precedent that an extra-corporeal soul could return to the body after being corrupted by Chaos." The voice rumbled.

"No, Father; but there has been no precedent of such possessions as this one, either." Homura countered verbally. "Though, the argument would be contrite unless Miki Sayaka does revive—!"

Her words were interrupted by a slight moan coming from Sayaka. The blue-haired girl shifted slightly in bed, her eyelids squeezing against each other into a frown.

"She stirs." The observation could not be more redundant at the moment for Madoka, who quickly placed her hand over Sayaka's forehead. "Consciousness is returning to her."

"Thank goodness… thank goodness…" Madoka was crying. Tears dripped onto Sayaka's cheeks, which provoked more of a response in the form of a grown and an unconscious shift in her position. Sayaka was definitely feeling the tear drops, Madoka smiled; it probably meant that she would wake up soon.

But Madoka felt a small amount of unease sending chills throughout her body, as if she was hearing the screech of chalk against a blackboard. There was something strange happening, she was certain, but she knew not what. Perhaps it was the strange effects of the voice being slowly integrated into her psyche that was creating such a dissonance, she thought; she had felt the intrusions of the voice seeping gradually into her subconscious, as somehow her instincts were different.

The unease crept up on her. It was as if a rough piece of sandpaper was grating the back of her mind, leaving scratches and flakes of her sanity all over the place. Her subconscious screamed danger, but a small part of it—and she was certain that it was His work—told her that everything would be fine, that both Sayaka and her would make it.

She regretted listening to Him.

* * *

><p>Kyouko struggled with her IV tubes. She was almost cut in half at her torso by the Lictor, and some unknown venom from the creature paralyzed her. It was all she could manage to repel the vile toxin from her body with her power and mend her flesh; she was hungry, and she needed food.<p>

Asking the Guardsmen or the medics was out of the question, as she did not understand a word of their speech. Neither could they understand her, for that matter; communication was an unholy mess of frustration and impatience. Plus, wounded men and women were streaming into the rather small infirmary, and many of those ended up in body bags.

Still, Kyouko knew the importance of food for her mending body, and though her stitches were not yet removed, she had to search for some nutrients to supply her body with material for healing.

One arduous step at a time, she walked with the IV stand as her walking stick into the basement. From what she could gather, the Guardsmen's supplies were ferried on the backs of men from the basement to the upper floors. Behind her, men and women barked at each other in a crude masculine language, seemingly fighting against each other endlessly.

Kyouko knew that they were still under siege; the intermittent reports from the obscenely large machine gun mounted in the living room was evidence enough. However, the situation was being managed remarkably well given the nature of the Guardsmen's quarrels, as no enemy has breached the fragile walls of Homura's home just yet. Certainly, even though they seemed to be in conflict all the time, these Guardsmen knew how to hold down an entire street and exterminate any enemy, provided that they had enough ammunition.

Her Soul Gem glowed a brilliant red as she took each step. The sedatives and anesthesia had not yet worn off; the pain was dulled, sure, but so was her reflexes and her senses. She could not even move her body as well as she wanted. As she moved, she continuously consumed power; only then would she be certain she was not walking on top of a cloud.

"Are you sure this is the best use of your power at the moment?" The voice's seductive cackle was similarly dulled. "You can do so much more with your power than simply driving your legs forward, you know."

"Shut up…" Kyouko groaned as she blushed. The mental images that the creature had shown her was disturbing enough.

"I wonder if anyone would be there to see you riding on top of her lifeless body." The voice whispered a soft moan, "Oh, the carnality of it all! I can barely wait to taste the ecstasy of your writhing and squirming on top of her as you try to wring pleasure out of such a lecherous act!"

"I said, shut up." Kyouko commanded as the voice buzzed incessantly in her head like a fly. How she wished to swat it and crush it and forever rid it from her mind!

"That would make you happy, yes? That would please you? That would make you worship our Prince with an appropriate tribute, yes?" The voice squealed in delight, as if the prospect of its own demise was exhilarating. "But no, I won't be banished so easily. You know you would like to know how sensuous it would be to invade her, to ravage her, to make her squirm under your flesh. And I would be there, watching, feeling, and amplifying every single move you make."

"Stop perverting my thoughts, you worthless piece of shit."

"What, was I wrong? Wasn't that what you wanted in the first place? Did you not want warmth? Did you not desire someone to comfort you with their flesh and to console you with their words?" There was a pause. "Things that you have lost and never again to obtain?"

"No." Kyouko gritted her teeth as she descended another step.

"I know you too well, little Kyouko. You are falling for me. You are mine. And soon, we shall bring pleasure everlasting to your friends, including that puppet of the barbarian Khorne." The voice's mad cackle transformed into a knowing smile, before it fell silent.

Which was just as well, Kyouko thought as she took the last step into the basement. Her thought was then immediately interrupted by a wave of searing pain in her head, debilitating enough that she almost fell onto the ground. Strange patterns of colors swirled in her vision as the world distorted. Her skull felt like it had exploded, her brains scrambled into a bucket of sticky goo. She staggered and wavered, almost losing her balance as she leaned against a wall.

If the pain and the sensory distortion had not cued Kyouko into thinking—however incoherently—that there was something amiss, then whatever she could see certainly would. Homura was sprawled across a bed on her stomach; a pool of red could be seen on the floor as she vomited blood, with more oozing through every crevice on her head. Madoka was paralyzed, having tucked herself into fetal position right under Sayaka's bed and screaming in pain.

She could not see Hitomi, the Inquisitor, or the Eldar, but she assumed that since they were similar to her, they should have similar reactions. Indeed, Hitomi was also disabled; she was rolling on the floor beside Kane's bed and wailing as she tried to stop her head from literally exploding. Kane, though, was rendered unconscious; he was the least affected in the group.

Glancing around the room despite her blurry vision, she saw the blue figure sitting on the bed. The shape of it was so familiar to her, that she immediately realized it was Sayaka.

"Sayaka…!" She cried, extending one hand toward her as she fell, bringing down the IV drip with her. The needle twisted and shifted, spiking dull pain into her head so much that she simply tore the needle out with a violent tug of the IV tube. Something told her that Sayaka was the cause of her pain at the moment, and Sayaka was the one who disabled everyone.

She crawled toward Sayaka. She had to make it stop. Sayaka turned her head and stared at her blankly as she approached; it was as if Sayaka did not realize at all how much suffering she was causing. What nonchalance! What indifference! How despicable!

"Yes! Despicable! Intolerable! Unbearable!" The voice shrieked in shrill screams in her head. It was in considerable pain for the first time, but this fact brought Kyouko no consolation. "Stop her! Kill her! Murder her! Make this pain stop!"

"Sayaka, stop… whatever you're… doing…!" Kyouko squeezed those words out of her gritted teeth as she pulled her body closer to Sayaka. She was then close enough to see that Sayaka was dressed in her Magical Girl outfit, as if there was nothing wrong.

She should just die!

"Yes, she should! Oh, she should! Die! Die! Die! Stab a dagger into her heart! Slide a knife across her throat! Shove a blade through her stomach! Stop her heartbeat! Stop her breaths! Stop her movements!"

Why did that thought pop in her head? Kyouko had no time or spare energy to answer, but subconsciously she reached for her Soul Gem. It was vibrating, as if it was going to burst apart into billions of fragments and scattering her soul across the winds.

"I can still transform—!" Sayaka spoke as a beam of crimson pierced her head. Quickly, another beam blew off one of her hands, producing a distorted shriek from the girl. Kyouko quickly glanced back, and saw an equally terrified Guardsman holding his rifle in hand, aiming at Sayaka and screaming incoherently in his language.

Abomination!

"Cleanse the abomination! She's a Witch! Burn her at the stakes! Purge her with flames! Terminate her with extreme prejudice!"

"Sayaka, you have to… cancel… the transform… the transformation!" Kyouko lunged at the panicking Guardsman against her instincts just as he squeezed off another shot. The beam hit the ceiling, vaporizing a large chunk of it with a loud pop as the Guardsman fell to the ground. Kyouko then proceeded to knock him out with a swift strike to the back of his head.

All of a sudden, Sayaka cancelled the transformation as Kyouko recommended. The pain immediately stopped, and Kyouko breathed a sigh of relief as a wave of shivering pleasure almost disabled her. She almost desired it; such debilitating pleasure was worth the pain it needed, she thought.

Sayaka's flesh rapidly mended itself. The hand that was removed quickly grew out of its stump, and the hole in her head was quickly repaired by grotesque, cancerous tissues which smoothed out into a smooth skin quickly. As Kyouko recovered from the crippling wave of shivers the removal of pain sent through her hypersensitive nervous systems, she quietly assessed Sayaka's regenerative capabilities: it seemed that this particular ability was not only retained outside the transformation, but vastly enhanced to the point that it could repair all but the most grievous injuries in a matter of seconds.

But how could she cause everyone in this room pain? How could she incite panic and chaos simply through the act of transformation?

"A… blank…!?" Homura caught Kyouko's attention as the black-haired Magical Girl wiped blood from her face. Kyouko never needed to guess how Homura felt about the situation; she had made her thoughts known beyond the shadow of doubt with her words.

"Blank? Whaddayamean?"

"It means that she came back without a soul."

* * *

><p>Hitomi quietly sat beside Kane's bed. The Inquisitor had not taken kindly to her apparent betrayal when she contracted with Kyubey. She understood that; it was an affront to his faith and beliefs. But she had to do it, she told herself; if it were not for her timely intervention, Kane would very much be dead at the moment.<p>

Something told her, deep inside, that he would have preferred being dead, that her actions had plunged him into a fate worse than death. But she did not regret her actions. Being able to save him was the least she could do; besides, she had power to assist Madoka, Homura and the others on their quest to rid the world of the menace that was Kyubey.

But, at what price did such power come?

As far as she was concerned, she had pretty much forfeited her soul to the daemons; in exchange, she had the power to—ironically—expel daemons from the material realm, where they did not belong.

And the results were…

"He… he promised he'd bring her back to life… He promised to fix her…" Kyubey put a cruel twist on her wish. Sayaka did come back to life, yes; but she was then without a soul. The mere act of transformation unlocked her powers, causing every single Magical Girl and psyker debilitating pain and instilling an almost irresistible urge to murder Sayaka in everyone else. "This wasn't what I wanted!"

The Inquisitor scoffed as Hitomi sobbed. He knew this would be the consequence of her actions, but he still could not help but be furious about it: "Anyone associated with the Ruinous Powers cannot be trusted! How many times have I told you that!? How many times would you have to be burned by a fire to realize that it hurts!?"

"But I was… I was…"

"Desperate?" Kane finished the sentence for Hitomi with a spat of disdain. "Desperate enough to sell your very own soul and bargain with the Ruinous Powers? Desperate enough to risk eternal damnation for paltry baubles?"

"No!" Hitomi screamed. "It wasn't like that… it wasn't… I…"

"Fool." Kane chastised. "Be gone; I shall have no creatures of such vanity and conceit in my sight."

Hitomi stood up. She walked around the bed to the other side, taking each step as slowly and deliberately as she could. Kane had trouble turning without assistance: his wounds were healing with the assistance of medicine, but they were numerous and grave and thus, Kane had no choice but to close his eyes when he found Hitomi staring into them.

She took a deep breath. Kane could smell her scent with her face so close to his; it was undoubtedly familiar, yet he could not help but think that there was a hint of corruption in it, one so alluring that he had trouble resisting.

"No." She spoke with defiance; unsurprising, Kane thought, given how powerful a will she had displayed in their dealings, but it would not help her when the daemon would take over. "I would not. You need me as I need you."

"I have no need for a heretic. Not purging you right this moment is the most leniency I have ever given to any confirmed heretic. Be gone before I change my mind."

"You will change your mind." The answer was resoundingly firm. "And you will accept me for who I am."

"You seem awfully confident in your beliefs that I would not shoot you."

"Even if you shot me, I would not die. No; dying would be too easy for me, it seems." Hitomi sat down again, this time, in front of Kane. "All I wanted was to save Sayaka, to stop her suffering from the mistakes I made. I thought that the price of my eternal 'damnation', if you can call it that, was enough. Losing your support as well was not a price I wanted to pay."

"You should know me well enough to expect me to turn against you."

"Call it a futile hope, if you will." Hitomi smiled. "I… hoped that you would be more accepting than I was led to believe. I hoped that you could see practical reasons to tolerate me for what I am, at least for the short term. I hoped…"

"Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."

"I've taken _that_ lesson to heart." She chuckled a couple of times. "You know, it's ironic, isn't it? Apparently, my powers allow me to dispatch daemons quickly and efficiently; and, being a member of the order that hunts daemons, I would assume that you could see the usefulness of such an ability."

"But at what cost? Others may say that we go to extreme lengths to hunt down and destroy the enemies beyond, but the willingness to sacrifice our own humanities is not one of them."

"She who fights monsters becomes a monster herself. Am I a monster to you, now?"

There was a long pause. "Yes."

"You were pondering the answer to that question." Hitomi did not let that pause go unnoticed. "You were thinking whether or not I _am_ really a monster to you. Perhaps you could forego your tinted glasses and acknowledge me as… as a useful tool to you. I'd be content with that."

"And that would classify me as a radical heretic. You know what we do to heretics."

"Does it matter now? You know your God Emperor walks amongst us. As long as he's fine with us Magical Girls existing alongside him, it isn't heresy, is it?"

Kane fell silent. Hitomi had a point, he had to admit; the God Emperor Himself indeed had given his tacit approval to the Magical Girls by taking up residence in Lady Akemi. To think that He knew not the truth behind these Magical Girls was preposterous; it was through Lady Akemi that the Truth was relayed to him in the first place. If even He did not consider the Magical Girls to be abominations that needed immediate cleansing, then why should Kane hold a grudge against them?

Doctrine, being what it was, existed and was to be followed for a reason: a very good reason that Kane understood and supported fully. But when the creator of said doctrine willingly violates it, what objections could he possibly raise to defy Him?

Kane sighed. Hitomi reminded him of his younger self, of the days nearly a century ago when he was simply being an apprentice. Her determination and zeal was simply too similar to his own that he could not help but seeing a younger version of himself sitting beside his bed and lecturing him in the necessity of his methods. She knew she was right; her eyes told him as much, and there was no way that he could ever change his mind.

Besides, her power, if it worked just as she advertised, could indeed be an extremely valuable tool to have in his arsenal. If, Emperor forbid, another greater daemon were to be summoned to this world, with the current strength of the planetary resistance, defeating it without her help seemed extremely unlikely.

There was no choice to make here.

"Very well." Kane resigned, coaxing a wholehearted smile out of Hitomi. "But remember this. You will one day become the very thing you are trying to destroy. And on that day, you shall die by my hands, and then I shall repent for my mistake in letting you live till that day."

"I'll make sure that day never comes around." Hitomi chuckled. "Say, do you like apples? I think I can find a couple lying around the house…"

Kane breathed himself a sour smile. Perhaps the situation was still salvageable. Perhaps he could still work with Hitomi.

Only time will tell, he thought; only time will tell.

* * *

><p>Kaname Junko drained her glass of Johnny Walker Blue Label. It had been a while since she last opened a bottle of expensive whiskey such as this one, and there was no special occasion that day.<p>

If anything was special, it was that her long-time friend and Madoka's home-room teacher, Saotome, had come to visit.

Saotome was quite wary of the large burly men with weapons posted outside her door. Junko had tried to reason with them, but they could never understand each other, and Junko dropped her Latin class while in college in favor of more time to spend at the local bar. She regretted that decision deeply.

"You know," Junko poured herself another glass, and they clinked glasses, "Madoka's been behaving strange these couple of days, ever since the city went into martial law."

"She's still young. After witnessing monsters like those tearing through the streets and slaughtering people like they were livestock, even I still have nightmares." The newest figures brought the casualty figures to mid-four figures, and the count was still rising. "It's natural for her to be a little withdrawn."

"No, I wasn't talking about that." Junko leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. "No, she wasn't withdrawn. It was as if she was hiding something from me; I could feel it."

"Is that the so-called maternal instincts talking, now, Junko-chan?"

"I'm being completely serious, Saotome." Junko could not help but smile a little. "And don't call me Junko-chan. I'm married, you know."

"Hey! I'm looking! I'm looking!"

"As if! What's with your crush on one of the kids you teach?"

"No, I don't have a crush on that kid!"

"You so do!"

"I so do not!"

The two bicker and laugh for a while, before the conversation died down into a more serious tone: "But anyway… I'm all but certain that Madoka was hiding something from me, and that something she's hiding is killing her from the inside."

"Well, maybe you can sit down and talk with her. Perhaps that will allow her to confess to you."

"I've tried talking to her, but all she does is shutting me out of her heart." Junko drained her glass again. The bottle of whiskey was half gone before they even noticed the alcohol taking effect. "I'm her mother. I'm supposed to protect her. She's supposed to talk to me about her problems!"

"Maybe it's a crush on a boy."

"Better not be the boy you're trying to seduce."

"Oh, just drop it!"

Some giggles later, Junko sighed: "You know, kids grow up so fast; one day they're still giggling as I hold them up in the air, and the next day they start hiding things from me that I really ought to know."

"Girls this age have their shares of secrets. Remember when we were this young?"

Junko nodded: "Yeah. But we didn't have to contend with supernatural monsters, people dying by the droves, and a constant fear of our lives."

Saotome smiled: "No, we didn't have to. Compared to their worries right now, our issues at that time was much more mundane."

"I wish she could have a more normal life. I try my best to shield her from the trauma and protect her from the harsh realities of life." Junko sighed. "Girls her age shouldn't be dealing with things such as this."

"Well, what can you do when it happens right in front of her, right?"

"Yeah."

The silence was somewhat comforting as the two sat with their glasses in hand.

"Sometimes…" Saotome hesitated, before continuing, "Sometimes I think that you worry too much. Perhaps it's just your maternal instincts again, but I think Madoka's going to be fine."

"Oh?"

"Look at Madoka. It's just as you said, one minute she was still this toddler that you play with, and the next minute, she's grown up into a splendid young adult, shouldering responsibilities that you would never dream of." Saotome continued, holding her glass by the lip and looking over her glasses at an attentive Junko, "One thing that I've learned from my parents is that, sometimes, you have to know when to let go, to let the kid fly on her own."

"But…"

"Madoka trust you, right? You're her best friend, or you try to be, right?" Saotome smiled knowingly. "Of course you are. You wouldn't be the Junko I know if you aren't."

"What are you saying?"

"Just let it go. Forcing stuff out of her mouth isn't a good way to get her to talk to you." Saotome finished the last dregs of her drink, "The fact that she's not talking to you right now means she's not ready. When she needs your advice, she'll come and find you. You never know, maybe she's working on a top-secret plan to end all this madness and return our lives to normal."

Junko giggled and poured Saotome another glass: "Yeah, well… let's hope so."

"To normality." Saotome raised her glass, and Junko followed suit: "and to hope."

The clink of the glasses echoed across the silence of the night.

* * *

><p>Madoka woke up. Rather, she shot up from her bed.<p>

The night was torturous, the dreams ordeals. She dreamt of lying in a field of devastation, suffering from unimaginable pain, and yet she was unable to fade out of consciousness. In her delirium, she saw a black-haired girl, bloodied and broken, lying next to her. Her hair was braided into two tails, and the red glasses she wore were shattered.

Somehow, she remembered asking the girl to end her life. Strange, that she would ask someone else to end her even though she had no desires to die just yet. The pain got more severe; she remembered having a gun pointed at something in her hand, and then, the other girl pulled the trigger.

She was certain that it was not of her own memory. She was certain that this memory was somehow brought in when the voice arrived in her head, when Homura gifted her with this skull-shaped pendant. He was in here, she thought; the memories had to have passed from Him to her, which meant that they were either Homura's, or His.

She had seen from His memories terrible, terrible events that made even the most brutal descriptions of wars she had ever read a paradise in comparison. Entire battlefields were rendered into apocalyptic wastelands. Corpses—rather, body parts, both charred and fresh—were strewn across said barren land. Smoldering wreckages of vehicles larger than a house littered the field. Obscene figures writhed and squirmed in the distance; a huge eight-pointed star glowed eerily on the ground, draping a thin layer of frost on everything around it.

Madoka shook her head to clear her thoughts. She could not afford thinking about these things at the moment, depressed as she were. Quietly, she climbed out of her bed, and walked toward the bathroom to clean herself, when she took note of the time and sighed. If the sun were visible, it would have just broke the horizon.

"Dawn." The voice muttered as Madoka stepped in front of the sink. "It is an appropriate metaphor, given our current situation, is it not?"

"Metaphor?" Madoka splashed icy cold water on her face. "The breaking of dawn, compared to the impending doom of the planet, the immediate destruction of everything I care about, and the imminent death of everyone I love?"

"The breaking of dawn, compared to the salvation of humanity." He rumbled. "You are involved in something much, much vaster than a single nation in a single world. The decisions you make shall affect trillions, if not quadrillions, of human lives across the entire universe. At that scale, it is sometimes necessary to make sacrifices on the scale of billions."

"Is that how you rationalized it?" Madoka wiped her face clean with a dry towel and looked into the mirror. Her irises, she noticed, had turned into a brilliant gold instead of the usual color. Perhaps it was His doing, as well. "Is that how you justified the solutions you came up in the past? Exterminating planets after planets of people without so much as to a second thought?"

"You think I take those decisions lightly, whelp?" The voice sent quivering trembles all over her body and weakened her legs so much that she could barely stand. "What, do you think that I have no compunctions against the _Exterminatus_? You think of me as some heartless monster?"

"Yes!" Madoka rebutted as she supported herself on the bathroom counter. "Every life is precious!"

He seemed to take a deep breath. "Yes. Every life is precious. That's why we must sometimes make sacrifices to prevent more loss."

"But where do you draw the line?" Madoka asked. "Where do you draw the line between yourself and the alien monsters who want nothing but humanity's destruction? How do you distinguish yourself from them, when your solution to most problem is to blow up one of the planets and kill everyone on it? At which point do you stop being a human—a good man with a head on his shoulders, sympathetic to his kin—and become the very monsters you try to fight?"

"There was no line." He answered quietly. "There has never been, nor would there ever be, a line. We do everything we have to in order to ensure Humanity's survival. If it meant blowing up a planet and sacrificing a handful of billions, then so be it."

"Then how can you champion yourself as a force of good?"

"We never claimed that." His answer came as a shock to Madoka. "We never claimed that we're the champion of peace, justice, and all that is good. As I've said before, we sacrifice what is needed to ensure humanity's survival. We never take pleasure in any of the things we do, unlike the enemies we face; we simply do them out of necessity."

"That's not good enough."

"It isn't. But when the entire universe is conspiring against us and plotting our destruction, when there exists nothing that stands between humanity's annihilation and our meager forces, what is good enough?"

That was a good question indeed, Madoka thought. What was good enough for them, if everything was as bad as he said it was? If the universe was truly such a horrible place, how could she—a simple girl who knew not yet the perils of the world, let alone the universe—be the solution of it all?

And, that is, if she could even trust him! Kyubey could give damned lies and omit the truth from them to achieve his own purposes; there was no reason for Him to also deceive her into carrying out His own agenda. She knew nothing of the other girls' experiences with their own voices, but from what she had seen, she could not afford to simply trust him.

"You don't yet trust me." The voice spoke softly, to Madoka's surprise. "It was not surprising to me, however; after what that white rat did to your friends, it is natural for you to have reservations against working with someone you do not yet know."

"You understand my reasoning. I don't want to be an unwitting puppet to some nefarious agenda." She answered. "I don't want to be used like Kyubey used Sayaka and the other Magical Girls."

"Puppets, huh." The voice chuckled. "Funny you chose that word. The universe is like a giant Go match; but instead of 361 points and black and white stones, we have millions of planets, star system and sectors, and the stones in this game come in many, many shapes and sizes. It was as if some greater beings were shuffling around figures in a sandbox for their amusement."

"Isn't that a little fatalistic, though?"

"Maybe. A lone person is a microscopic puppet. An entire chapter of Space Marines is a slightly larger puppet. Every force of the galaxy moves according to their puppet master's will. There exists no exceptions."

"Then, what use is a single stone, a lone microscopic puppet, in the grand scheme of things?"

"A single stone can seal the fate of an entire section of the game board. A microscopic organism can dismantle the largest of animals from within. The right person in the right place will make all the difference in the world. Besides, you are not just a single insignificant stone, nor are you a tiny, indistinguishable puppet amongst the many trillions of men and women."

"How come?" She was just a simple girl. She had no talents. She had no specialties. She was plain in every possible way, even in her looks. How could she be more than an ordinary person?

"I am offering you a chance of becoming the puppet master."

… What?

"I am offering you a chance of becoming the puppet master of the entire human race." The voice repeated in no uncertain terms. "If you are willing, you will one day become the sole master of the human race. The Imperium will be at your beck and call. Your word shall be law. Your will shall be done regardless of cost. You shall rule the galaxy and save humanity from its slow but certain destruction."

Madoka was silent.

"Of course, such power comes with responsibilities." The voice continued. "The survival of humanity would be solely in your hands. Every decision you make, whether it is to destroy a planet or to name a commander to protect a section of the Imperium, will have dire consequences for billions of your subjects. A single word from your mouth may erase dozens of populated systems from existence and causing billions more to perish."

"Even if I could trust you, I'm… I'm not sure if I'm ready for such responsibilities." Certainly, the prospect of such immense power was enticing. But, disregarding the truthfulness of his statements for a second, why would he choose her? What was so special about Madoka herself, who had no distinctive features or specialties, that He chose her to become the leader of the Imperium?

"I expected that, as well." The voice smiled. It was as if he had predicted every single reaction she could have, Madoka smiled sadly. She was so simple, so unsophisticated, and so naïve, that he could simply see through her as if she was a person made of clear glass. "It was not an insignificant decision. I could have chosen to simply overpower your fragile soul and make your body mine; however, I made a promise with a certain someone that I would not force you into such a role.

"Take your time, but take heed; the sand in the hourglass is quickly running out, and the hours of reckoning draws near." And with that, He fell silent, leaving Madoka alone to think.

And think she shall, Madoka chuckled as she lay flat on her bed and stared into the ceiling. She needed to first decide whether or not He was trustworthy, that she could even believe the outlandish and extremely cynical views he held. Then, she needed to decide whether or not to take him up on his offer.

"This is just too difficult." She muttered. For a girl who could not even make a decision on the color of hair ties to wear without consulting her mother, making such tough decisions on her own seemed next to impossible. But sadly, she had no choice.

And such inevitability was unsettling to her.

* * *

><p>Madoka was escorted to the community center with her family by a squad of Guardsmen.<p>

Her mother was suspicious of these men at first, and tried to resist. Communication was difficult, but not impossible; Madoka found that, with the addition of the Voice into her, she could then understand the Guardsmen's speech. She knew they meant well, and she convinced her mother to go along with their directions.

The community center was filled with people from their neighbourhood. Armed soldiers were posted outside with intimidating weapons set up to watch the entrances of the building. There was only one thing on everyone's mind: when the madness of these supernatural creatures could stop and when they could return to their normal lives, if they could get out of this alive. Many were praying to their gods for the safety of themselves and their loved ones.

Madoka did not pray. She believed in no deities that could dictate the fate of humans on a whim, though such beliefs grew weaker with every passing moment. After all, one such creature resided within her at the moment.

"Are they going to be all right?" She finally whispered in her mind as she sat amongst the crowd with her family. She knew that Homura, Kyouko and Hitomi would be doing something to stop that huge creature from harming more people. They were good friend of hers; they could never let anything that bad happen.

"They have a plan and the tools to execute it." The voice rumbled. "Whether or not the plan would work out would depend on many factors. At this point, there was not much that we could do."

"Can't you help them?"

"As I am currently, no." He breathed a sigh of frustration. "My powers are mainly used to sustain the Imperium, and it requires my constant attention. But you can help."

"How?"

"You possess immense potential as a psychic individual." The voice continued as Madoka listened intently. "Allow me to tap into such power, and I can make you more powerful than any of the Magical Girls on this planet, or even any of the psykers that had ever existed."

Madoka expected such an answer. Of course he would be trying to get her to do what he wanted; Kyubey was not much different from him. Whether his purposes were benign or malign was another matter entirely, and one that she could not yet decide. "Power is not what I want."

"I would argue that in order to make a difference and make yourself useful to others, power is essential." He said with a small smile. "The power to discipline oneself. The power to influence others. The power to change the world. The power to bend reality."

Madoka nodded. What He said certainly made sense. She was all too familiar with the feeling of powerlessness and the despair that came with it. When Miss Mami was facing off against that Witch, if only she had power at her disposal, Madoka would have made the difference and Miss Mami would not have to reside inside a host body as she did at the moment. If only she had power at her disposal, she would not need Sayaka to rescue her from certain death at the hand of that Witch that night. If only she had power at her disposal, Madoka would not need to sit here wondering what she could do.

Instead, she would rush to the aid of her friends. She would brace the dangers with them, remaining by their side at all times. She would share their happiness and their suffering. She would stop being their subject of protection, but become their comrade.

Madoka sprang up from her seat. Glancing around, all she saw were fear, uncertainty and doubt amongst the people taking refuge at the community center. She saw people gesturing and muttering in an effort to communicate with their deity of choice. What good would prayer do? Madoka wondered. She had a creature with god-like powers within her, and even she could do little to help her friends defeat the eldritch abomination. Those people sat on their behinds, prayed, and prayed; in the end, the only thing they would get from their inactions was consolation that their deities might have acted to save them.

"No." She announced to the voice. "Power is certainly important. Perhaps you're right; power is necessary to cause change. But it is not the most important thing; the will to act is. I will not be amongst these people, who makes empty gestures and mutter meaningless words in the hope of salvation."

The voice smiled, and Madoka shivered in soft warmth as a result. She was doing the right thing; He assured her. She was moving in the right direction; she assured herself.

"Where are you going?" Before Madoka could bolt away, Junko caught her by her hand.

Her child's behavior was strange. A moment ago, she was sitting beside her mother and hugging her own knees. All of a sudden, Madoka sprang up from her brooding depression, and was ready to dart off to places unknown.

Madoka turned to stare at Junko, who was then also sitting on the floor of the community center, and Junko noticed that there was something glinting in her daughter's eyes. Even though Madoka tried her best to conceal it, Junko could tell that her mood had changed. From the brooding depression and silent despair she saw since Madoka came home that night, Junko instead saw her eyes glinting with bright hope and burning determination.

"I'm… going to the bathroom." Her daughter replied, and Junko was glad that Madoka was as bad a liar as she thought her daughter was. It was obvious that the girl had already decided on something that had been troubling her for the past couple of days, and her course of action was likely to be both difficult and dangerous.

Madoka shook loose her mother's grasp and bolted away before Junko could reach for her and stop her. Junko stood up as well; there was this looming feeling that if she did not catch up to Madoka, she would never see her again.

She turned to Tomohisa, who had a sleeping Tatsuya in his embrace. No words were necessary; a simple smile from Tomohisa sufficed as Junko dashed to action. There were many exits to the community center, Junko recalled from the floor plan for evacuation she read earlier; only a handful exits were left unlocked to regulate the flow of people in the case of emergency evacuation, and only one of those pointed toward the location of the monstrosity attacking the city.

There was no basis for her decision; she was simply following her instinct and darted as fast as she could toward that exit. Her stilettos were slowing her movements; a pair of swift tosses sent them flying to places unknown. Nothing could hinder her from getting to her daughter.

"Stop!" Madoka's pink tails were in sight as Junko reached the top of the staircase leading to the exit. She barely made it in time; Madoka was almost at the bottom of the stairs and it would be but moments before she could leave the building.

Madoka's reflex stopped her where she stood. The pink-haired girl spun around and stared back at Junko with such an intensity that Junko herself almost cringed.

"Where do you think you're going?" Junko collected herself. The assertiveness of her daughter caught her completely off guard, but she could not afford to look weak in front of her rebellious teenage child.

"I…" Madoka hesitated. "I need to do something, Mom."

"It can wait."

"No, Mom. I can't sit by idly while my friends are in danger."

"Call the authorities. They can help them better than you can."

"No, Mother. It has to be me. This is something that I have to do."

"But what about the people around you!?" Junko yelled at her daughter for the first time in her life. Contrary to her expectations, however, Madoka stood her ground; she neither flinched nor cringed, and her eyes remained locked against Junko's.

"You're being selfish!" Beneath the apparent changes of Madoka's iris color from pink to gold, Junko saw something more, and it disturbed her deeply. "What about us? What about Tatusya? Have you ever thought what would happen to us if something were to happen to you!?"

There was a moment of silence, and then Junko knew that there was nothing she could do or say to stop her daughter: "I love you, Mom. I love Dad, too, and there is no one in the world that I love more than my little brother. I made the decision with you guys in mind, and it is because of you that I must go to the aid of my friends. They are out there, laying their lives on the line to stop that monster from killing everyone for my sake; it is only proper that I be by their side and support them. You know I'm never one to lie and do bad things, Mom; please trust me on this one."

Junko resigned: "If you must go, at least take me with you."

Madoka shook her head: "Please stay here and make Dad and Tatsuya comfortable, Mom. You don't need to wade into the fire because I must."

"But…"

"I'm sorry, Mom. I wish there was another way."

"… I expect you to be back home for dinner." There was nothing else Junko could say. Even though she was a master negotiator in business, she failed to dislodge her daughter from her position.

Madoka smiled: "I will, Mom. I love you."

"I love you too, girl. Go show them what you're made of."

Madoka was gone before Junko could finish her smile. Along with her daughter, a piece of herself was gone as well. Her knees gave away the moment she realized the fact, and she collapsed on the floor.

She would never see Madoka again; Junko's instinct told her. It would be the last time she could ever see her daughter.

She had never cried harder in her entire life.

* * *

><p>"Ma'am, it approaches."<p>

"I know." Homura spared no glance at the Guardsman that reported to her. She could feel Walpurgisnacht in her bones; chills wrapped around her body as she stared into the binocular. The distinct silhouette of the inverted Witch approached, having discarded any measures to cloak itself due to recent events. There must exist a method of communication between Kyubey and these Witches, Homura thought; or, it could be that the Witch itself still retained a sliver of intelligence belonging to its previous self.

The evacuation order had been given by the local authorities, but it was still limited in scope. No military force on the planet was equipped to deal with such a lethal supernatural threat, and Homura knew how difficult it was to have politicians decide to push e red button and unleash nuclear Armageddon on Mitakihara. According to the media, after the little fireworks show the Guardsmen and her put on to deal with the Greater Daemon, there was obvious doubt that nuclear weapons would even scratch the proverbial paint on the Witch.

Homura knew that a ballistic missile armed with a run-of-the-mill 550 kiloton thermonuclear warhead would certainly do a number to the Witch, if not outright kill it. But it would also cause untold devastation to the town below, not to mention the fallout rendering the area uninhabitable for decades to come.

Instead of boots on the ground and what would amount to a massive military intervention, Homura expected that they would simply throw as many missiles as they could at the Witch from fighter jets, land-based missile sites and missile cruisers at sea. Should the battle drag on or should an extended bombardment of conventional missiles be insufficient, the nuclear option would be brought to the table.

In fact, the military operation had already begun. Squadrons after squadrons of fighter jets screamed across the airspace, sending waves after waves of missiles at the Witch. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Witch barely flinched from the assault, and shot down a couple of fighter jets in retaliation for such irritation. As they observed, cruise missiles were just arriving. Having larger warheads, they gave the Witch pause, but they were still little more than nuisances.

Intervention was needed to bring down Walpurgisnacht before the politicians would begin raining nuclear doom on the still-populated town, Homura decided. The lances on the _Invicta_ could be adjusted to the effect of a small nuke without much of the fallout, and this time, since the Witch hovered in the air, collateral damage could be minimized while effective damage could be maximized, not to mention that there were no concerns that the shots would cook nearby friendly units by overheating the air.

"Ain't that bitch a fat one." Sakura Kyouko's wounds were almost completely mended with a lot of food and quite a bit of magical power, and she sported a confident smile. Shizuki Hitomi stood beside Kyoko with her large war hammer standing on its head by her side. Her Eldar allies—and by extension, Tomoe Mami—stood perched on top of utility poles, observing the surroundings and attending to the conversation through telepathy.

"Yes. We're going to kill it."

"I like that plan." Kyouko squeezed a vicious smile. "Let's see the fireworks."

Everyone was ready. She had their full support. The moment was near.

Homura took a deep breath and took up the vox transmitter lying on the makeshift table. Mami and the Eldar were working with a single platoon of Guardsmen to provide perimeter security for the field command post, in case the Tyranids decide to come in and spoil the party. The other platoons of Guardsmen were spread around evacuation centers around the city to provide security for those places, also in defense of a surprise Tyranid assault. The _Invicta_ loomed over the city in its designated geosynchronous orbit, its lances charged and its target area pre-sighted for bombardment.

All that she had worked for boiled down to this moment. The military's bombardment of missiles continued; according to cable news and intercepted transmissions, talks of the use of nuclear weapons were already put on the table. In order to save Madoka and prevent further damage to her hometown, Homura must act.

"Akemi to _Invicta_, low-power volley to Grid Alpha Three Juliet Niner. Fire for effect, over." The target was large enough that it took up an entire grid on the map. At this size, it was pretty difficult for the _Invicta_'s guns to miss.

"_Invicta _rogers."

Thin beams of crimson pierced the overcast sky and slammed into the large figure. Thunderous explosions cracked across the heavens as the beams landed on the Witch's barrier like mallets striking large drums with incredible force. The Witch screamed and faltered; it was not prepared for such powerful attacks and recoiled from the lance shots.

"_Invicta _to ground, requesting BDA on target, over."

"Akemi to _Invicta_, BDA minimal. Increase power and fire for effect, over."

Thicker and brighter beams blasted Walpurgisnacht. Its pitch black barrier cracked and buckled under the immense strain; the light from the shots seeped through those cracks, creating a cloud of pink plasma on the other side of the barrier.

It was working.

Homura's smile turned into a vicious grin. After thousands of repetitions, she could finally defeat Walpurgisnacht without Madoka's help for the first time: "Akemi to _Invicta_, BDA effective. Increase power and fire at will, over."

"_Invicta _rogers all."

Even thicker beams of crimson brought the mortal races' judgment barreling down onto the abomination. Its arrogant cackles turned into painful shrieks when the light could finally breach its barrier and reach itself. As its outer layer was lit ablaze, it turned its attention to the source of the blasts at last and hurled black fire into orbit at the _Invicta_.

"We're under attack. Shield is holding. I say again, void shield is holding."

Without maneuvering to avoid the attacks, the _Invicta _took the attacks with stride and continued to lay down heavy punishment at the creature below. The one-sided beat down turned into a race against the clock as Walpurgisnacht retaliated with streams of black fire against the _Invicta_'s unrelenting barrage of lance shots.

There was little Homura could do to help. It was far too dangerous to approach Walpurgisnacht while orbital bombardment was taking place; billowing clouds of brilliant plasma from the blooming effect of the laser beams wrapped around the Witch, forming a highly dangerous cloud that constantly crackled with bright discharges. Besides, the temperature around the Witch must by then have been too high for even Magical Girls to approach without diverting most of their powers to protection.

"Akemi to _Invicta_, bring down the thunder."

"_Invicta _rogers. We won't let you down, ma'am. For the God Emperor!" With a battle cry, the ship's shots became much more rapid. More and more light seeped through the ever-widening cracks of the Witch's barrier, searing off its outer layer and reaching its "tender" insides.

The Witch desperately tried to strengthen its blackened barrier and to repair its immolated outer layer, but it could not hope to match the destructive power of sustained bombardment from Imperial naval lance batteries. The barrier shattered under the deafening roars of the shots as it slowly ceased its measly retaliation and submitted to its fate; _Invicta_'s attacks finally reached its inner parts, as the large gears that constituted its body melted down and vaporized under the extreme temperatures of the lance shots.

It finally began to lose altitude with each shot that slammed into it. That section of the city had already been evacuated; there was no immediate source of nourishment for it to replenish its lost power. Soon, it crashed into the city, its entirety in black and red flames.

It was in its death throes. Any further attack would cause too much collateral damage and endanger evacuation centers: "Akemi to _Invicta_, cease fire. I say again, cease fire."

The last lance shot was the _coup de grâce_. Through sheer luck, it landed on the Witch's head, neatly shearing it off of its neck with an agonized scream. The creature's constitution failed; it began to disintegrate in a huge plume of black and red fire.

Homura looked at her watch. It had been over ten minutes since she gave the order to the _Invicta_ to fire at will. The ship needed over six hundred shots to take the Witch down; in contrast, any punishment that she alone could lay on the Witch with her arsenal was insignificant.

"… We won." Hitomi breathed the words Homura wanted to say.

"Yes, we did. Our very first real victory against these inhuman bastards." Thunderous cheers came through the radio from Guardsmen everywhere as Homura announced it, but she was too ecstatic to care. She had finally bested Walpurgisnacht without Madoka's help. All that remained would be to deal with the Tyranid threat, and then they could start working on getting rid of Kyubey and live out the rest of their lives in peace.

The thought of ejecting the white abomination inside a torpedo toward the center of the sun briefly crossed Homura's mind as she smiled with glee. It would be fitting, indeed, that the creature suffer an eternity of pain, being vaporized inside the center of a star repeatedly as it attempts to regenerate.

"Did you miss me, girls?"

The sweet voice rang from behind Homura as her train of thoughts froze. Both Kyouko and Hitomi quickly turned around and readied their weapons. All three of them recognized the voice.

Kyubey.

It was in its humanoid form; its sharp claws were retracted into its slender fingers. In its palm, a Grief Seed stood on its needled end, delicately balanced and never sinking so much as a millimeter into its flesh. The creature's expression was that of a permanent mocking smile, its eyes shining with glee.

"Do you know why there exists Grief Seeds?" Kyubey continued to speak as Homura turned around, storm bolter in hand. "Do you know that, other than pretending to help you maintain your power and sanity, it has a different primary purpose?"

"It's not anything good, and we're about to find out what exactly it is." Hitomi whispered telepathically, "Get ready. This could be ugly."

"I have to say, you did well in defeating Walpurgisnacht. Well done. Bravo. What beauty in such a concerted effort between insignificant worms!" The creature continued.

"And Akemi Homura, you have been everything that my lord hoped you would be. If it were not the intervention…" It paused, and then arched an eyebrow as if it was amused, before it started to cackle. "It's gone. Oh, it's gone! Akemi Homura, it is not yet too late to reach into the embrace of my lord and find power beyond your wildest imaginations! Anything could be possible! Including saving this doomed planet!"

"Is that your attempt to corrupt me with your insane ramblings?" Homura leveled her storm bolter at Kyubey and let loose a dozen shells, riddling the creature's torso with fist-sized holes. "It's never going to work. We will save this planet. And we will send you to a place where you will suffer. Forever, and ever."

It quickly regenerated in a manner not unlike how Sayaka regenerated her wounds: with cancerous growths that quickly smoothed out to albino skin. Its mocking smile never faded, however: "My lord had hoped that you could commit willingly to his service. But, it seems that I must capture you and bring you to him so that he could… enlighten you personally."

It tossed the Grief Seed into the air. The seed itself had a swirling mist of blackness around it that quickly condensed into the seed itself, before space and time tore open around it. A miniature Witch—Walpurgisnacht, the one that Homura just defeated—emerged from the rupture, much to Homura's horror: "You…"

"That's right. The Grief Seed does exactly what you think it does." Kyubey shook a couple more Grief Seeds from its sleeves. "It stores the essence of the Witch you've defeated. By absorbing some power from the warp, I could summon them again at will. Would you like to see a few more demonstrations?"

"That's enough!" In the blink of an eye, Kyouko charged at Kyubey, slamming it into mid-air before Hitomi's hammer bashed it down to the ground, creating a small crater where it landed. "Stop this madness this instant, or we'll make you suffer like you've never suffered before!"

Kyubey cackled: "Suffering? I doubt there's anything you could do to me that my lord would not, if I fail him.

"And I'm not going to fail." It slowly gathered itself as the dust cloud of the impact cleared. Floating at the center of the small crater, it shook dozens of Grief Seeds out of its sleeves every second, and there was no sign that he would stop any time soon. "Thanks to all these Magical Girls over the ages, I have millions of these Grief Seeds at my disposal. Even if the Witches themselves are the products of failed experiments, I have an army of them at my beck and call. All you have is your ragtag bunch of apes, a pair of pathetic space elves, and a ship that you can't even use while you're on the ground."

Every Grief Seed floated and transformed into rapidly-growing forms of their former selves like Walpurgisnacht's, and soon the area flooded with Witches. So innumerous were they, Homura doubted that she would have enough ammunition to defeat them all.

"Enjoy the feast, girls." Kyubey cackled, and ordered its army of Witches: "Keep them alive if you can. My lord will be greatly pleased if I can haul them all in. I shall be off in search of that pink-haired brat to bring to my lord as my ultimate tribute."

Madoka!

"You son of a bitch!" Homura screamed as she activated her time-stopping shield. But time did not stop; she had already gone past the limit of its abilities. She crashed into the barbed thorns of a Witch's familiars, shredding her outfit into pieces and leaving bloody cut marks on her skin.

"Enjoy your despair, Akemi Homura; I am going to capture your precious prize, and there is precisely nothing you can do to stop me."

With a gleeful string of cackles, Kyubey disappeared from Homura's sight, leaving her to contend with the millions of full-sized Witches.

"What do I do now?" Homura said to herself as she maneuvered the best she could away from the Witch's attacks. Kyouko and Hitomi were both already in the thick of combat; their spear and hammer had already dispatched half a dozen smaller Witches. But there were millions of them, and most of them were hideous beyond all imagining. There were at least a hundred Witches that continued to feed on blackened mist generated from defeated Witches; Walpurgisnacht was amongst them. Homura could only assume that they would all be at least as strong as a fully-grown Walpurgisnacht, or even worse.

"Father, what do I do now?" Homura wept.

* * *

><p>The combat between the Witches and the handful of people were bitterly fierce, and Pathfinder Azrael was positively ecstatic.<p>

He could practically taste the corruption in the air as the Witches swarmed at them. The _mon-keigh_ could not be relied upon to handle such an immense threat; it was high time for them to shine.

"Did I not ask you to stop referring to us as monkeys?" Mami pouted as she used Azrael's power to create a wall of muskets behind him and fired them in a fusillade at the Witches. "We've proven our mettle by removing a Greater Daemon from existence."

Azrael observed through his peripheral vision as his movements sped into a blur. Witches, on their own, could cause serious trouble to a Magical Girl. Given that they outnumbered friendly forces in the margin of several thousand to one, there was simply zero chance that any of them would walk out of this alive.

"I cannot believe that my nickname for your kind is your biggest concern at this moment." Azrael squeezed off a shot at a Witch, and found it being surprisingly effective. The beam punctured the Witch's barrier and blew off its head, scattering its form into a puff of blackened mist. He could feel Mami's surprise, as well; neither one of them expected to kill a Witch with a single shot. Then again, their enemies were indeed smaller than the Witches either he or Mami had seen. Perhaps they were not fully matured, being driven into battle so quickly after their release?

If that was indeed the case, they may stand a chance against this massive swarm of adversaries, after all.

"Still, they should not be underestimated." Mami echoed his sentiments as he danced around a utility pole, terminating a Witch who barreled down on him with razor sharp swords with a single shot to its chest. "Quantity has a quality all its own."

"Given the quantity, we would run out of ammunition or power before we exhaust their numbers." Azrael captured Homura's form in his peripheral vision. Having lost the power to stop time, Homura was in dire straits. He saw her dashing away from a pack of Witches as fast as she could, before an explosion scattered to glob of enemies. Her equipment was far inferior to Azrael's, being equipped with crude human weapons rather than sleek and powerful Eldar ones.

But she was creative in the use of her equipment, thought Azrael as Homura shouldered a plasma cannon and launched blobs of brilliant blue at her targets. Swarms after swarms of Witches scattered and screamed as these blobs of death crashed down on them; smaller Witches were instantly vaporized, while larger ones were set ablaze. As the Witches scattered, however, Kyouko swam into the fray like a crimson sword fish. She impaled a smaller Witch at incredible speed, her spear flashing red with power. Other Witches tried to lash out at her, but she was moving far too quickly for their projectiles to catch. With a sharp turn, Kyouko flung the Witch off of her spear; it turned into a puff of black smoke as soon as its limp body slid off of her spear, and she dove into the fray again.

Mami summoned her own muskets and fired them at smaller Witches around them. Most could not take more than three rounds before perishing, but some were tougher, and getting tougher by the minute. The only logical conclusion, she thought, was that these Witches were indeed only in their infancy. Crushing them at the moment was easy; defeating them later would grow harder and harder, if not impossible.

On the other side, Hitomi slammed her hammer into the ground. It created a powerful explosion of power, one that shook loose the dome of Witches that was barreling down on her and scattered them. Her weapon was extraordinarily effective against the maturing Witches: one strike was all she needed to squash them into blackened mists, and the shockwaves on impact would scatter, disorient, and sometimes outright kill smaller ones.

But, as good as the situation seemed to be, all of them knew that it was not to last. Walpurgisnacht and dozens of high-level Witches were quickly maturing overhead, and at this point, not even psychic lightning blasts from the Far Seer did much damage to them. On the ground, they could not regroup in the sea of creatures that smothered them; there were simply too many to fight through, and missiles soon became hazardous to use because of the close proximity between them and the enemy.

"We're not going to get out of this one alive, are we?" Mami asked as she conjured a large cannon that blasted away a group of Witches, only to have the small clearing fill with more creatures in a matter of seconds. In minutes, the Witches had grown from easily being killed to simply recoiling at their attacks.

Lightning screamed as the Far Seer shocked several smaller Witches to oblivion. "We will survive. We must," she whispered telepathically as she moved into a blur, but she remained isolated from Azrael.

"We're severely outnumbered and outgunned-!" Homura's thought over telepathy did not finish as a Witch sent a bladed appendage through her abdomen. Like a rag doll, she was flung into a broken wall, coaxing a spurt of blood from her wound. A wave of Witches charged toward her, but a final blast from the plasma cannon she wielded hit them directly, sending some of them into oblivion and others fleeing from her counterattack.

She was weak. Like sharks, the Witches swarmed over her, and there was little that Mami could do to help.

Homura was not killed. The Witches were under orders to capture them alive if possible, but that did not mean that they did not hurt her. The restraints they used on her were barbed, spiked, and thorny; they dug into her flesh, leaving bloody marks all over her body. She cried out, but her cries were drowned out amongst the writhing mass of the Witches.

Kyouko and Hitomi were used to fighting up close and personal; even they were in trouble, as the Witches greatly outnumber them and they were not afraid of them. It was all they could do to avoid a fate similar to Homura's. Hitomi was liberally using her power to bash away Witches by repeatedly slamming her hammer into targets, and Kyouko dodged attacks to the best of her ability.

Azrael and Mami had their own share of problems. A single shot from Azrael's rifle could no longer kill a Witch even if he hit them where it hurt, and they shrugged off Mami's musket balls like they were plastic pellets. It was only Azrael's mobility that kept them from being restrained, but he was tiring.

"If we die here… if we perish… I just want to say…"

"Save it." Azrael left no room for Mami to argue. "I shall not die against these crude abominations; not before I reduce most of them to ashes and dust."

"I ain't gonna die here, either; and I ain't gonna be that little white bitch's toy." Kyouko chimed as she narrowly got away from a Witch's slash.

"We are agreed." Azrael smirked. He landed a kick on a Witch and, using it as his springboard, soared above the writhing mass of eldritch abominations. Having tossed his complement of plasma grenades into the mess, he let out a shot that stunned a Witch before landing on top of it, and skimmed toward Hitomi. The grenade blasts behind him did little to slow the Witches, but it did distract them for a moment.

Seeing that his tactic worked, Kyouko adopted a similar trick. With her superior speed, she hopped over the Witches, avoiding their attempts at grabbing her with their various grotesque appendages. Hitomi unleashed a particularly large shockwave to make a clearing for the regroup; the trio stood back to back as the Witches shifted their attention away from the Far Seer and to them.

"This sucks." Hitomi panted, her hammer trembling slightly, "I _just_ became a Magical Girl, and now I have to fight against an army of eldritch abominations with no chance of winning. This isn't on the contract!"

"Yeah, yeah; lotsa things ain't on the contract, woman." Kyouko laughed as the Witches encircled them. The Far Seer shielded herself; the trio would do their best to regroup with her, and they could then concentrate on rescuing Homura. "Yer laughin' like an idiot, though. Havin' fun?"

"It's a proper party." Hitomi chuckled. "We even have a pretty boy with us."

"Ain't this what them frogs call mélage… melang… me… ah, whatever, a threesome!" Kyouko had some difficulty with these words. They were never her strong suit, after all.

"Do not let me hold you back from your vulgar actions, _mon-keigh_." Azrael smiled under his helmet as he felt Mami's blush. "Show me what you can do."

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to Junko, Madoka wept as she turned around. She knew, as well, that she was probably never going to see her family again, and the thought had hit her hard.<p>

"Sometimes, sacrifices must be made." The voice spoke quietly. "For the decisions you shall make ahead, more difficult sacrifices may be necessary."

"I just… I just need a moment." Madoka leaned against a utility pole and caught her breath. It mattered not how hard she tried; tears would not stop streaming from her eyes. "It… it just seems that I've been crying a lot these days."

"Dry your tears, Kaname Madoka." The voice rumbled. "You have not enough tears for each life you must sacrifice."

Madoka rubbed her face: "But this is different. They are the people I love the most. They're… they're family."

"As a ruler, such attachment to a microscopic subset of your subjects is detrimental in making fair and balanced decisions."

"But it makes us human, doesn't it? If we don't even take care of our loved ones, what makes us different from beasts and monsters?" Madoka resumed her sprint, but her pace soon slowed to a jog when she ran out of breath. "We can't become the monsters we hunt."

"That may be so, but it does impact your ability to make balanced judgments. How do you weigh the importance between a billion people whom you would never meet, and a handful of people whom you knew each one personally?" He spoke as if he were lecturing his grandchild. "Leaders are required to make personal sacrifices for the good of the collective."

A thunderous crack shattered Madoka's train of thought. Firecracker-like sounds had been coming from the location of the Witch; the military was throwing hundreds of missiles at it in a futile attempt to stop it from causing more damage. But this was different; it followed the brilliant flash of a red beam that streaked across the heavens and struck somewhere around the Witch, and it was loud enough that Madoka had to shield her ears.

"The attack on the Witch has already begun." The voice drowned out the ring of Madoka's ears. "They are leveraging the cruiser in orbit. Smart girl, Homura; very smart."

"Are they going to be okay?"

"It depends. The Witch is certainly a powerful one; that much I know. Whether the lance batteries on the cruiser is enough to stop it is still an unknown."

Thunderous booms echoed across the town as red laser beams struck the Witch again and again. Madoka's ears were deafened to the point that she could just barely hear herself think; the beams delivered fast and hard punishment to the enormous Witch, who was then screaming and wailing in pain.

It was working; Madoka thought as the Witch sank closer and closer to the ground. Even at this distance, she could tell the power of the laser shots; the air around the Witch crackled and shimmered, as if it were a brewing storm waiting to be unleashed.

"They're going to be okay, aren't they?" Madoka asked the voice as she observed. "Their plan is working, isn't it?"

"It would appear so." The voice said with a hint of relief. "But our enemies are not limited to the Witch. Alien creatures such as the Tyranids are still active on the planet, and Kyubey's actions are still unknown. We cannot afford to lower our guard."

The Witch finally crashed into the ground, kicking up a dust cloud thick enough that Madoka could no longer see through it, and then it was immolated in black and red flames. Its death wails echoed across the empty streets and sent shivers down Madoka's entire body.

It was defeated. They were victorious. Madoka was overjoyed. The monster was dead! They were out of danger! They could—!

Her thought was halted by a white figure approaching her at a stately pace. Two long ears fluttered in the wind that howled through the streets.

Kyubey.

Madoka cringed in fear. The creature had an army of Witches behind it; each looked ready to devour any human unfortunate enough to be within their immediate vicinity. Kyubey itself had its claws extended and sported its eternal mocking smile, its eyes glinting dangerously at Madoka.

It was the predator. She was the prey.

"Kaname Madoka." It spoke as its army of Witches surrounded Madoka on all sides, leaving a handful of yards between her and death. "I cannot thank you enough for coming out to meet me. It saved me the trouble of looking for you in the city."

Madoka's legs quivered. She was but a helpless human in the face of certain death; she was without a scrap of power in front of Kyubey's total dominance: "What… what do you want with me?"

"… I see." Its smile did not disappear, though its tone became a lot sterner. "She transferred the meddler to you. That troublesome gnat."

"It does not yet seem to be aware of my identity." The voice whispered. "I have erected defenses around your mind so that its psychic attacks will never succeed."

"It doesn't matter." It waved its hand in dismissal. "I doubt that the meddler would have enough power to foil my plans. Kaname Madoka, did you know that you are a human with the most psychic potential that I have ever seen across the universe? Did you know that you have sufficient volume to contain the presence of a god?

"You will be the perfect vessel for my lord's manifestation in the Materium." He took a small step toward Madoka, and the circle of Witches tightened around her. "You will beg for mercy as my lord slowly and methodically devour your mind. You shall suffer as no mortal has suffered. You will submit to my lord's will and weep as he does with you as he pleases."

"Capture her alive. Do not be gentle." With a command, the Witches tightened the circle within a blink of an eye and descended upon Madoka with their grotesque shapes from all directions.

"There is no time!" The voice yelled as Madoka fell down on her bum, desperately trying to move away from the monstrosities. "Allow me to defend you!"

"But… but…!"

The Witches were too close for her to make a decision. Silky ribbons, heavy chains, thorny vines and a myriad of restraining devices coiled, wrapped and tied themselves around Madoka as the Witches snarled and tugged at her body, trying to claim her as a prize to please their master Kyubey.

Madoka's head was wrapped completely in ribbons. Robbed of her senses, she could only writhe in desperation as she tried in futility to shake free of her restraints. The lack of oxygen blacked her out a couple of moments as she tried to take in air through the thick ribbons, but none could get through.

"No… I don't… want to die…!"

A flash of darkness entered her mind, accompanied with pain so strong that it was as if she herself were cleaved in half. Immediately the bindings around her head loosened; she gasped in a gulp of air and coughed as the dust entered her lungs. In rapid succession, the flash of darkness danced around her and with each appearance of it, another thread of bindings was loosened. Within a matter of seconds, all of them were destroyed, and Madoka fell softly on the ground.

Madoka slowly opened her eyes. The figure standing in front of her had a flowing midnight black cape; a sooty mist swirled around the pair of straight-edged obsidian machete she held. The neatly-cut short azure hair trembled as the figure stood on guard in front of Madoka, blocking the passage of all that would harm her.

Sayaka.

"Sayaka-chan!" It was the second time that she came to Madoka's rescue. It was the second time that Madoka had to rely on her.

"I am needed." She said flatly, before her black sword hacked an offending familiar apart with a swift and smooth stroke.

The announcement was not heroic in any manner. Rather, it was rather flat as if she was simply stating a fact. A Witch dared to be the first to launch an assault; it was quickly dispatched with two clean cuts, slicing it into quarters. The Witch howled and disintegrated into the same sooty mist that surrounded Sayaka's weapons, before joining the existing mist and coating the weapons.

"I have also shielded you against Sayaka's unfortunate side effects. We should be fine for the time being." The voice rumbled an explanation for the lack of pain Madoka experienced even when within the vicinity of a transformed Sayaka.

"Meddlesome gnat!" Kyubey snarled as the Witches launched their assault. Calmly, Sayaka's cloak detached and draped over Madoka, who then wrapped it around her for some protection.

It worked. Any and every attack from a Witch launched at Madoka—be it thorny vines, sharp razors, unholy fire or vile darts—turned into black mist upon touching the cloak, which then mixed the mist into its dark fabrics. The cloak seemed to be an impenetrable layer of fabrics, absorbing everything the Witches threw at it regardless of intensity, frequency, or methods, and seemingly getting stronger and stronger with every passing moment.

Sayaka, on the other hand, was wreaking absolute havoc amongst the Witches. Her dance, Madoka recalled, had not changed; she was still leveraging her brute strength and her blades to dispatch her enemies. However, this time around, the Witches seemed to recoil from her presence; there was a perpetual yard-wide distance between Sayaka and any Witch even when Sayaka was zipping around like a bullet. The Witches dared not close in with her, even when her back was turned at them.

Her machetes were extremely effective against the Witches. Any sort of defense they could muster was instantly nullified as the blades effortlessly tore it apart. The thick exoskeleton of one insect-shaped Witch was no match for the blades; they carved through it with zero effort, slicing its limb off with one clean stroke and drawing a thin wispy trail of black mist from its wounds.

Sayaka herself, however, was all but impervious to the Witches' attacks. Vines tried to entangle her feet. Thorns tried to stop her steps. Fire tried to steal her breath. Every possible attack was thrown at her, and every attack was absorbed and transformed into sooty mist that coated its azure armor.

"What… what is this?" Kyubey recoiled as Sayaka drastically reduced the number of Witches in its army. Its mocking smile disappeared; pure terror dominated its face.

"This can't be possible." It took a step back. Madoka moved following the wake of fleeting peace Sayaka carved through the army of Witches, with many still hot on her tail. "What monster is she?"

"You didn't seem to have thought your plans through, Kyubey!" Madoka announced triumphantly. "You'll pay for your crimes! You'll pay for what you did to all of us!"

"Impudent brat! I'll get you whether or not you want it, and not your meddler, or your pawns, or… or that monstrosity is going to stand in my way!" There was fear in its apparently boisterous words, Madoka was certain. Kyubey's claws were retracted as it conjured up a ball of sorcerous energy and fired it straight at Madoka. To its surprise, the energy sphere's path curved around Sayaka as she moved into it; it spiraled into Sayaka, its color turning from brilliant violet into sooty black as it quickly smashed into Sayaka's armor, adding a shade of darkness to it.

Kyubey hurled bolts of lightning at Madoka in vain. Each bolt bent and curved around Sayaka, who stayed between Madoka and Kyubey as protection. They simply added more color to the already glossy black of her armor. Madoka could see the desperation in its eyes; nothing it threw at the duo seemed to work, and despite outnumbering Sayaka at several thousand to one, the Witches failed to make any progress in stopping their advance.

Kyubey charged with its claws extended. It was out of options; it needed more options to stop Sayaka on her seemingly unstoppable advance. The white creature slammed into Sayaka as she turned around to face it. Its claws seemed to pierce deep into Sayaka as it buried them into her sides.

But it was not to be. An agonized scream came from the creature's mouth as its claws disintegrated into black mist. Sayaka delivered a solid kick to its stomach; it sent the creature flying into mid-air, eyes wide and in unimaginable pain. Six blackened darts formed out of the mist that swirled around Sayaka. They pursued Kyubey as it attempted to adjust its aspect in mid-air, and pierced its hide. The darts continued to carry it backward, slamming it flat and pinning it on the outer wall of a building on its limbs and ears. It tried to use its power; instead, all it got was distilled agony as black lightning arced around the six darts.

A chance such as this might not come again; Madoka and Sayaka dashed toward Homura's location.

* * *

><p>All of a sudden, the Witches lost their sense of purpose. They reverted to their more feral state, some cloaking and others berserking, but most of them gave up their single-minded pursuit of the Magical Girls, and instead bolted off in different directions.<p>

The restraints on Homura loosened and she slumped on the ground into a bloody heap. If it were not her Soul Gem, she would have been dead by then; but instead of a blessing, it was a curse, for she was in considerable pain.

Seeing her own innards spill out from the gash on her stomach, Homura was all but numb to the pain. It also brought clarity to her thoughts as her mind drifted from the immediate battle. They were the sole subjects of the Witches' attention; that way, even though they were in immediate danger of being overrun, the Witches were at least not dispersed throughout the city, feeding on its inhabitants who were conveniently gathered in evacuation centers. There were thousands upon thousands of them, and each one would be capable of devouring as many humans as they could possibly find.

Homura had neither resources nor time to contain the threats. As she was, she could barely stand her ground against a single Witch, not to mention thousands. Kyouko and Hitomi were in similarly dire straits; neither of them had the strength to take on a dozen Witches at once.

What was more, there had been reports of Tyranid sightings ever since the army of Witches attacked them. The Genestealer cult must have sensed that it was time for its feast, and they too were heading toward the evacuation centers. The Guardsmen were spread too thin if the Genestealers were to attack en-mass; valiant as they may fight, the sheer numbers of the Tyranids would be able to exhaust the Guards' ammunition reserves and then overwhelm them. And then, the defenseless civilians housed within would be fruits ripe for the picking.

Out of all times, now!

Homura moaned sadly. Just when she had tasted a morsel from the feast of victory, fate once again rained a bitter and cold downpour on her parade. Madoka was in one of the evacuation centers somewhere; if she were to be…

She had to stop them. She had to stop the flood of Witches _and _the tide of Tyranids. But short of an omnicidal orbital bombardment from the _Invicta_, she saw no other way.

Other than a couple of stragglers, the Witches were all gone. The Tyranids were smart enough not to show their faces where resistance was fiercest; they seemed to understand tactics fairly well, being nothing but grotesque, bestial monstrosities.

There was preciously little she could do, especially in her condition.

There was only one thing that could save the town, and it all rested on Madoka's shoulders.

"I'm sorry…" Homura whispered as a single drop of tear rolled down her dust-covered cheeks. "I'm so useless… I'm so powerless… I'm sorry…"

"This is bad."

Madoka's gut wrenched as she dashed, out of breath as she was. The Witches were no longer heckling Sayaka and her; instead, they were darting around street corners and into alleys, as if avoiding the black armored knight.

"Indeed. It seemed that once Kyubey's powers to control these creatures were nullified, they have reverted to their instincts." The voice agreed with Madoka's mental assessment. "I suspect they would seek out humans as nourishment like they did before. It is part of their instincts, after all."

"Can't we stop them…?" Madoka whimpered. If, indeed, the Witches would hunt for innocent lives, it was the least they could do.

"We simply do not have the resources to do so. The militaries on the planet know not how to deal with such threats. At this point, only saturated strikes with weapons of mass destruction would contain this threat, but…"

"That'll kill everyone, too." Madoka came to the chilling realization as they reached the temporary command post. Sayaka targeted straggler Witches and eliminated as many as she could with her blades while keeping an eye on Madoka, but even she could not chase down and kill them in their millions.

"I may have a solution." The voice rumbled, and Madoka could guess the gist of it. He was going to call on her to fuse with him and leverage her purportedly immense power to rid the planet of these Witches.

"I…" Madoka hesitated, but then she saw Kyouko collapse on the ground clutching her stomach with streams of blood flowing down her thighs. She turned around and saw Hitomi on the other side, barely able to lift her hammer as a familiar darted past her and carved a chunk of flesh from her arm. Homura was knocked on the ground, sitting and leaning against what remained of a tree. The Eldar were similarly exhausted, with the Far Seer leaning against a broken utility post and gasping for breath. The Pathfinder's rifle blinked out after a couple of shots; he discarded it and picked up a musket with some disdain and continued to fight, but his movements were visibly sluggish even for human eyes.

They had done their very best, and it was not enough.

Madoka's hands curled into fists. She dashed toward Homura, who was staring blankly into the sky. The wounds on her were in no way superficial, and Madoka almost retched. The gash on her stomach was so large and so deep that Madoka could see her intestines lolling out onto the ground, and deep bloody wounds covered her body.

"Ma… doka…" A barely conscious Homura moaned. Her Soul Gem glowed brilliantly on her hand; it struggled to keep Homura alive and to repair her grievous injuries. Beside her, a pair of empty storm bolters lay detached from their ammunition belts, which lolled from her sleeves like slack tongues. "I'm sorry… I'm… sorry…"

"That's enough, Homura-chan… That's enough…" Madoka cried. If Homura could go to such lengths to protect the townsfolk, to protect her… if she, who was allied with Him, could make such sacrifices…

What price would Madoka's trust be?

Madoka bit her lips and squeezed out a smile as she stared into Homura's unfocused eyes.

Surely, it could not be more expensive than their lives.

"I've made my decision." Madoka held Homura's hand in hers, caressing her violet Soul Gem delicately. Power seemed to radiate from her into Homura, as a thin pink aura wrapped around both their hands.

"I'm ready."

The voice smiled: "Then, let us begin."

"Lower your defenses. Relax. Allow me to seep through you as water seeps through cloth." Madoka closed her eyes and took in deep breaths. Even though she had no idea how to control her powers just yet, she tried her best to do as she was told. There was not much time left.

"Yes. Allow me to mix with you. Allow me to join you, and we shall sing glory everlasting." The voice gradually faded into Madoka's consciousness as Madoka found herself announcing with Him. They were becoming one in their mind, their individual identities mixing like cream spreading into coffee.

"Release the reins on your power. Let not our fear grip us, for our courage knows no bounds. Let not our uncertainty cloud us, for our purpose is clear. Let not our anger chain us, for our wrath is righteous and just." The voice chanted, and Madoka followed. Words escaped her when she tried to describe the feeling of their souls merging into one; her nerves were firing randomly and all over her body, as if lightning had struck her. But instead of pain, it brought all kind of senses: pleasure, comfort, itchiness, and warmth, to name some of them.

It was as if her entire body was being transformed. She could feel her feet landing on the ground even though her body's position never shifted. The weight of her hair was more noticeable; her flowing strands of pink fluttered in the maelstrom of power around her. Her arms, like her legs, lengthened without a single bit of pain. She tried to flex her muscles, and six pairs of wings flapped behind her even though they were physically detached from her body.

"We are the Light of Hope. We are the Beacon for the Lost. We are the Redemption for the Damned. We are the Savior of Man. We are the Messenger of Peace. We are the Harbinger of Doom." Her voice echoed across the Heavens and gave every creature pause, to Madoka's surprise. His voice was added to hers, forming a complex yet beautiful chord.

"Let the Enemies of Man take heed; for She walks once more amongst the living!" Madoka opened her eyes and realize that she was then floating in mid-air. Her shoes transformed into a pair of white dance shoes with short stubby heels, with a pair of long white stockings covering her legs up to her thigh. A pair of long gloves wrapped around her forearm and her hand. White ribbons tied her air into two braids, with more splashing down her back like a waterfall. Her body, on the other hand, was wrapped in a flowing white dress, with a golden necklace of a twin-headed Aquila at the center above her much-enhanced chest.

The transformation of her appearances amazed her, but she immediately realized that it went deeper than just her appearances. She brimmed with energy, and her muscles—invisible as they were—were rippling with power. Most importantly, her entire person itched for action, longing to jump into the fray and simply cause unbridled mayhem to her enemies.

But there was something more immediate that she needed to tend to. Homura stared at her with wide-eyed disbelief; even she did not realize how much Madoka could change.

Madoka kneeled in front of the broken Magical Girl and smiled. It coaxed streams of tears from her eyes.

"That's enough, Homura-chan…" Her voice was wispy, Madoka found. There was no hint of Him in her voice, however. "I… I will finish what you have started."

Her power seeped into Homura as the black-haired Magical Girl was surrounded by a bright pink aura. Wounds on her body rapidly mended, flesh knitting together with miraculous speed and skin healing back into unblemished smoothness.

Her hand touched Homura's shield, and it too transformed. Disappearing in a flash of violet light, her shield was no more; instead, a pair of violet bracers wrapped around Homura's delicate wrist, each of which shone with crystalline brilliance. On each of them there was a bright purple tube of liquid sand; they shifted and shook as Homura moved.

"It is your new artifact, child." Madoka found herself speak without her will. This time, her voice was the chorus with His voice once again, and she found it strange. "Use it well."

"The merging is not yet complete." He spoke in Madoka's mind. "For it to be complete, we must head to Holy Terra and retrieve the rest of my power. But first, we need to resolve our current crisis."

* * *

><p>Captain Miroslav observed the planet from his bridge on the <em>Invicta<em>.

The Warp Storm had no sign of ceasing, and the repair for their Gellar Field Generator was impossible without outside assistance. The crew got comfortable in the meantime; they had enough supplies to last perhaps five or six years, during which time they would be able to figure out how to fabricate the parts for the Generator or to obtain assistance from Segmentum Command.

The lance batteries finally spun down from their ready-to-fire state. The old captain cared neither how Lady Akemi got onto the planet in the middle of a raging Warp Storm with no apparent Warp-capable craft or a retinue, nor how she obtained Gideon Kane's trust so easily and readily. All he ever cared about was a fine drink after a day of hard work following orders, and such days were not difficult to come by.

But today it was different. Astronomic instruments were going haywire all over the ship. Astropaths were practically paralyzed, muttering and mumbling something about "reincarnation" or "salvation for all" or some such cryptically creepy stuff as they always did. Even the Navigators cowered in their quarters, refusing to answer any calls to their door, not even calls to deliver their rations to them.

The Warp Storm was behaving strangely, as well. Normally spinning with fierce turbulences within, the rotating monster seemed much calmer from the instruments' readings. Then again, it could be because every cogitator and logic engine on the ship was going berserk. Their Machine Spirits seemed to be disturbed by something greater, the Techpriests said.

Captain Miroslav was not one to trust the Tech-freaks from Mars. There was something strange going down on the planet, Miroslav's gut feeling told him; it was the source of all these weird shenanigans.

And it was. There was an enormous emanation of energy, as if someone fired a lance shot from a ground-based installation at the ship, which rocked from the apparent attack.

"Damage report!" The Captain barked.

"No apparent damage, my lord, but our Void Shield control has been hijacked!" The response was even more puzzling. Captain Miroslav ordered the image from the external pict sensors be brought to the main screen. The pink lance shot was twice as thick as the _Invicta_'s own, and even more coherent than one fired from space. With such a powerful shot, it should have skewered the ship and sliced her in half, but the only effect was that the Void Shield control was hijacked.

"My lord! Every system but life support is shutting down! Power is being diverted fully to the Void Shield!"

"Counteract it! I don't care how, get it done!" The Captain screamed. They were sitting ducks floating in space without their engines or their weapons.

"We're locked out of the controls, my lord!"

The pict screen blinked, and somehow the lime green background turned pink in color. On it, in strangely cursive script, was the words in High Gothic followed by a wink:

"Sorry, but we need the ship for just a moment."

Captain Miroslav could only gape at such a message.

* * *

><p>Kyouko saw Madoka's transformation and her gesture of shooting a beam of light into space.<p>

There was no time for her to puzzle the purpose of such actions, for the result was immediately apparent. Streaks of pink light smashed down from the heavens, striking every Witch on the planet at the moment, and every Magical Girl, too, by the looks of it, because she was just hit.

The Witches struck by the pink beams of light shrieked, not in pain, but in delight, as if they were finally released from their torment. Kyouko could swear that there was heavenly music being played as the creatures were released. Their forms slowly disintegrated into pink particles, which then drifted toward Madoka in a spectacular show of lights. They surrounded Madoka, swirling around her arms and legs, before being absorbed by the Aquila pendant on her chest.

But Kyouko was in no mood to admire the show; the light was doing something to her, as well.

"No! No! No! No! No! No!" The voice in her screamed as Kyouko felt it being wrenched from her soul. The pink light caressed her body like a spring breeze, and she shivered in pleasure, but the pain of the voice was apparent. "No! This is not supposed to happen! This is not what I had in mind! I don't want to leave just yet!"

"So long, sucker!" Kyouko was overjoyed. Long had she thought of how to rid herself of such a corruption influence, and Madoka had just made it happen.

"No! I wanted! More pleasure! More pain! More sensations for my Lord! You were my prize to my lord! You were my tribute! You were the cornerstone to my ascension!" The voice desperately held onto an ever-diminishing part of Kyouko's mind even as its strength dwindled. "No! I refuse! I refuse to be annihilated this way!"

"But you have no fucking choice, cock sucker." Kyouko simply nudged it, and it was detached from her mind. A stream of black dust came out of her Soul Gem with an agonizing scream; the dust, along with the creature, quickly disappeared into the light, and Kyouko felt refreshed.

Without the corrupting influence, she—and other Magical Girls—could finally stop worrying about turning into Witches. They could finally use their power with liberty.

* * *

><p>Captain Miroslav could not believe his eyes.<p>

The Warp Storm was _contracting_.

Instead of its normal spiral, the Warp Storm gathered into a huge funnel around the beam of light that tethered the planet with the ship. As if the light opened up a huge clogged drain, the Warp Storm poured down to whatever creature that created the pillar of light and disappeared.

This was no small storm. It was a massive storm, spanning several dozen light years and catching thousands of systems in its turbulence. The amount of power in it was massive; whichever creature capable of calming and absorbing the entire storm would be able to dominate entire sectors with their mind alone.

Captain Miroslav only hoped that whatever it was, it was friendly. This was likely the case, he reasoned; if not, the _Invicta_ would have already been shot out of orbit then. In the face of such a powerful creature, not even a Battlefleet may do much to deter its advance should it be pitted against the Imperium as an enemy.

But this also solved the problem of them not being able to contact anyone. The _Invicta_ was out of isolation; they could then properly contact Segmentum Command for help.

"My lord! Warp signatures coming in from the other side of the planet! Hundreds, no, thousands of them! A smaller Warp Storm was in its wake!"

The Captain's heart sank: "Cross reference the signatures with known rogue vessels. Use the Inquisitor's database if you have to!"

"Lord… it is… the largest ship is…"

Captain Miroslav's glass dropped onto the floor as the profile of the largest ship was brought on screen. He paid the shattered glass no mind; he was unlikely to live long enough to see it replaced, anyway.

"The… Planet Killer…" He breathed. The very name of the vessel brought terror on the bridge as the air froze into veritable chunks. The Planet Killer was here, and it brought the entire fleet of the Black Crusade with it.

The Captain thought not about survival. There were thousands of ships in the Black Crusade; included in them were dozens of capital ships, two Xeno Blackstone Fortresses, and the Planet Killer. A lone Lunar-class cruiser could not even hope to outrun said fleet, much less put a dent in its numbers.

Despair was the dominant scent as the crew sat there in disbelief. Captain Miroslav sank back into his chair, and forced his jaw shut through sheer will. This was no time to sit around and feel sorry for one's imminent fate, he thought; the people on the ground would probably need him to extract them and escape.

"My lord! My lord!" A messenger charged through the door to the bridge in a panic. "Our… our Astropaths are all dead!"

"Dead!?" Could it be another one of these Traitors' tricks? The Captain gritted his teeth. "Were they able to get their message out to Segmentum Command?"

"Y-Yes, my lord!" The messenger caught his breath and stammered. "They were able to get through! But they said there was a 'shadow in the Warp' or some such thing before they all died!"

There were more players in play than he could ever possible to defeat, it seemed; Captain Miroslav closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

Regardless of what they may be, he was probably not going to get out of this one alive.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>**  
><strong>

I have less and less time to write these days now that work ramps up to its usual pace. I will try to update on SpaceBattles more frequently in small chunks and consolidate those sections into chapters and aggregate them here on FFN.

Anyway, what do you think? Some epic asskicking is about to ensue, that much I know...

Venerate the Immortal Empress.


	19. XVIII: The Exodus

XVIII: The Exodus

Prognosticar Hyperion slowly stepped into the pristine halls of the Augurium. He was a man as tall as most Space Marines, but he was nowhere close to as muscled as those. Instead, his wiry frame appeared to be conditioned for agility rather than strength, and he walked always with slightly slumped shoulders.

The other apprentice Prognosticars saw their master and stood at attention. It had been a while since Hyperion returned to Titan, but he had remained in meditation in his chambers ever since his return. The sudden retreat of Abaddon's Black Crusade left a strange taste in his mouth. Something was fishy, he reckoned, but even as a Prognosticar he did not know why. The Imperium was besieged on all sides. Whether or not Abaddon retreated because he sought another prize, the Grey Knights had to be there to stop him wherever he would show up. Hyperion needed to predict where the notorious treasonous leader would appear next, and be there before he could wreak more havoc.

He walked to the Divining Table. The table itself was intricately carved out of an entire piece of adamantium-coated silver that gleamed under the pale lights of the room. Intricate patterns adorned the Table's sides and edges, never repeating and always life-like. His tool—a set of the Emperor's Tarot hand-carved from entire pieces of psychoactive crystals—was already laid on the table, waiting for his inspection and use.

It was the first divination he would personally perform in more than a decade, and rightfully his audience was of high profile. A dozen Hidden Masters of Ordo Malleus were present on the high balconies looking down at the floor of the chamber, and two Grand Masters who happened to be on Titan at the moment joined them to observe the ritual.

Hyperion's hand trembled, much to his surprise. The audience did not matter; his devotion was to the Emperor's and the Emperor's alone, and he could not care less about how the Inquisition thought of him. But he found himself nervous about the immediate future, as if some great and terrible event were going to threaten not just his life, but the very existence of the Imperium. His tarots, similarly, were humming; the psychoactive crystals vibrated by themselves and against each other, emitting a quiet but still audible hum as he closed his eyes.

He must clear his mind of such thoughts, Hyperion decided. The divination process was the most holy, and stray thoughts and emotions may disrupt his link with the Emperor. Quietly he got down on one knee in front of the table and uttered prayers of devotion to the Emperor, begging for His aid in his endeavor.

The Emperor answered, as he always would. The cards floated up into mid-air, all twenty-two of them dancing like butterflies and buzzing like hummingbirds. The silent chamber was soon filled with the cards' melodic buzzing, but they stopped as one were lad on top of another neatly into a stack.

Meanwhile, Hyperion did not open his eyes. He was merely a conduit for the Emperor's power as he manipulated those cards into a single, neat pile, not knowing the order in which they laid. The Emperor had laid the cards for him; He had composed His message. And it was time that he read it to the audience.

Hyperion extended a trembling hand toward the Tarot deck. The first card slowly floated up and landed gently in front of him, making none so much as a small clatter. The crystal trembled against his fingers as he gingerly snatched up the card; the hums of the card seemed to pierce through his skin and directly into the marrows of his bones. His entire being shivered and shook as he picked it up, the coldness of the crystalline card piercing even his gloves and stabbed at him like sharp needles.

This was highly unusual, Hyperion thought; never were there such intense sensations when he conducted a divination. Resisting the urge to fling the card away and cower under the divination table, he gently tilted the card over and revealed it.

The Galaxy, inverted.

"Strife will soon engulf the entire universe," he announced, as if compelled by some greater existence that used him as a conduit. Such sensation was unprecedented, as well; it was as if he was watching another person divine the Emperor's will on the balcony, instead of himself interpreting the meanings of the Emperor's message.

Chills assaulted his body like piercing needles against his skin as he snatched the second card, which seemed to try and desperately stay away from him. The delicate sheet of crystal seemed to vibrate more and more the longer he held it, and his chills seemed to intensify.

The Eye of Horus.

"The Ruinous Power shall wash over the galaxy like a plague." He boomed, his voice loud enough to make even himself wince. Hyperion wanted to remain in control of his body, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so, as another unknown presence wrested it from him forcibly without his consent.

Who could this power be? Other than the Emperor himself, Hyperion could not fathom what twisted creature could overpower his already formidable psychic defenses after silently breaching the psychic wards of the Citadel.

The third card landed in front of him without resistance, as if it were a child waiting to be caressed. The intricate carvings on the card seemed to squirm and move as Hyperion turned it over; its hum reached a dissonant chord with the previous two cards, making him wince.

Xenos.

"Aliens shall rise against the Imperium, working in cohort with the Heretics and the Mutants. Humanity stands at the cusp of its destruction." Such ill omen had taken his audience aback, Hyperion observed. Not much whispering was traded between them; instead, they waited for the next card in eager anticipation, hoping for good news.

The fourth card. The divination was nearly complete; or was it? Hyperion could feel his power flaring as the card was drawn. The dissonant chord remain unresolved when the card added its tone to the rest.

The Despoiler, inverted.

"But there shall be a hero, rising up to the tide of madness, standing stalwart in the defense of humanity." Much relief seemed in order; he saw the Inquisitorial masters conversing with each other in hushed whispers as the unknown spirit announced its interpretations. The trance was powerful enough that he himself floated out of his body and observed himself, hovering above the divination table.

The next, and perhaps the final card for this session seemed to tax him much more than usual. The card actively resisted him, sending bright lightning at his temples and causing him to cry out in pain. Hyperion felt the burns as the chills that assaulted him worsened even more; he was playing with far more power than his body could handle thanks to the spirit in control of his body, and if he did not end his session soon, he would risk frying his entire being.

But he had to see it through. The Emperor's message was never so specific like this; only at times of direst need did He provide warnings, but none as specific as this.

The card was drawn. It fought against him as if it had a will of its own, sending bursts of brilliant lightning at his crumbling psychic defenses as he snatched it. The electric shocks compounded with the debilitating chills coursing through his veins almost caused him to drop the card, but Hyperion hung on to it as he gently turned it over.

The Shattered World.

"Cataclysmic changes shall follow his wake as he travels across the Imperium, its very foundations shattered and replaced." Hyperion knew that it was not over, that there were more. But his body could barely channel all the power used to fuel the ritual. If he did not stop at that instant, there was a good chance that he would perish.

He must hear more. He must know more. He must understand the Emperor's divine will!

And so, Hyperion pressed on, having partially regained control to his body. The spirit seemed to recede in its dominance, instead lending a helping hand as he drew the sixth card from the pile physically. The card let out a burst of blinding light that seared its image into his retina; it was hot enough that he could smell the burning fabrics of his gloves.

The Primarch.

"Champions of old shall rise at his call. They shall come to his aid as he rebuilds the Imperium from its foundations." Blinded, Hyperion could no longer see; but his other senses were greatly strengthened. With it, intense sensations almost overwhelmed him, but he remained steadfast. The message was almost over, the spirit told him; and then, he would be released from this duty.

The seventh card. It screeched, and Hyperion felt his eardrums bursting and blood squirting out of his ears.

The Astronomican. Somehow he knew the card even though he could neither see nor hear.

"He shall rise from the far reaches of space."

The eighth card. He could no longer feel his legs, but he pressed on.

The Golden Throne.

"He shall arrive at the Holiest of places."

The ninth. Hyperion could feel himself frozen in place.

Zenith.

"At Humanity's darkest hour…"

The last card.

The God Emperor.

"… He shall be our salvation."

The cards circled around him. Hyperion knew that his time had come. Such a long and arduous divination had expended all of his power; plus, the spirit had channeled an unholy amount of power through him, so much that his physical composition was dramatically altered.

He could see his body then. Oh, how beautiful it was! Forever frozen, forever meditating, and forever glowing with the glorious light of the Emperor!

He smiled. It was a fitting end.

"Thank you for your service." The spirit spoke. Its smile—even though Hyperion could not see its face—warmed his heart. He would join the Emperor's side as an honored martyr in His service, and He had come to greet him personally.

But His voice was surprisingly feminine, much more so than the records had indicated.

"Do not worry," the spirit said, "for you have done well to deliver my message."

Hyperion could only smile as he was lifted into ascendance, with thousands of angels singing in melodic harmony.

The light from his crystalline body turned pink.

"The prophecy has been sent."

* * *

><p>Madoka shivered as drops of sweat rolled from her forehead. She had reached across the galaxy for that one person to send a message, and it was a cryptic one at that. But what truly disturbed her was how she felt when she absorbed Hyperion into her own being; it was a pleasure beyond belief, an addictive euphoria that she had to struggle to clear from her mind.<p>

"We didn't have to kill him, did we?" She asked. "Even if we did, we didn't have to eat him, right?"

"It was the only way." He answered. "The distance between us and him was too vast. To reach him directly, we had to use more power than he could handle. The only way to stop his soul from entering the Warp is to consume him; you know that."

"I… I'm going to get addicted." Even the memory of the rapturous sensation sent shivers rippling across her body. "But I can't! This isn't the solution! What else would set me apart from those… those hideous monsters out there in the Warp if I keep on eating soul after soul?"

"Indeed. We shall need to engineer a better solution." His voice calmed her quivering body. "But at the moment, our enemies are strong and our friends are weak. We cannot enforce the solution, even if we develop one.

"Observe." Madoka's vision was suddenly flung to the surface of the moon. The disorientation caused by the rapid shift in perception almost made her throw up, but what she saw took her mind off of such insignificant things.

Her planet sat in front of her like a giant marble. However, she did not see the blue orb she expected from the photographs she had seen on textbooks. Instead, she saw a grey orb, with different shades for what she assumed to be planets. A bright sphere dominated her field of vision like the midday sun; from what she saw, that was Mitakihara, and that was where her body was located. She squinted her eyes, but her own presence was quickly filtered out; perhaps he did something with her vision so that she could identify psychic presences.

"Are they all…?" If that were the case, then the small dots were…

"Magical Girls. The ones you have purified. Most of them are still alive, but they would wonder what it was that pulled their inner voices from them." He spoke as Madoka observed. "But that is not the most important matter at hand. Observe the shadow to the left."

Madoka almost retched as she saw the tentacle-like slivers of the giant shadow. It seemed like a monstrous octopus with innumerable number of arms spreading across the planet as if the planet was a tasty morsel. Reaching out with her own arm, she tried touching it; the backlash was so potent that it was as if a bee had stung her finger, forcing her to pull back.

But in that single moment of contact, she glanced something incredibly disturbing. Instead of a single organism, all she heard was a repulsive buzzing of screeches and wails, all screaming.

They were hungry, and they wanted to eat. Their food? The beautiful sphere in their grasp.

"They are the Tyranids. They are but one of the enemies we must defeat." He spoke as Madoka suckled her stung finger.

"Direct your attention to the cloud of light to your right." The cloud twisted and distorted as Madoka observed it, as if it was hiding behind a veil of mist.

With the wave of a hand, Madoka blew away the violet veil. The cloud of lights was so incredibly dense that she could not even distinguish between individual lights, but she could tell some of those were different from others, and all of them different from the lights of the Magical Girls. Her instincts screamed danger, but her curiosity got the better of her as she reached out to touch the cloud; she immediately wished she had not.

Obscene thoughts filled her head as she made contact, thoughts so depraved that she shut them out instantly. Carnal desires of brutal bloodshed, horrific mutations, unspeakable pestilence, and coarse lust filled her mind for a brief moment; sensation after sensation assaulted her conscience, threatening to break it down. She was mentally strong, but even she could not sustain her defenses for long against such brazen assaults on her mind.

"This is Chaos. This is their main fleet. They have been attempting to reach Terra for millennia, and they were on the verge of success." He said as Madoka gasped for breath. "These creatures were the direct consequence of my failure ten thousand years ago.

"The clash between Chaos and the Tyranids was inevitable, and the planet is caught between the crossfire." He concluded, "We are at a crossroad."

"I'm not abandoning these people." Madoka said as she slowly drifted back to the planet, "I'm not abandoning the billions of souls residing on the planet."

"We have not a choice in the matter. We simply do not have enough resources to fight a protracted war against two enemies who, on their own, would take the Imperium decades to completely eradicate."

"But I have you. And my power…"

"Your power is not inexhaustible. By touching the fleets, you have already announced your presence; even if you did not, our power was too significant to ignore."

They drifted past the _Invicta_, and Madoka turned her head the moment a lance shot ripped clean through her hull. Explosions rippled across her superstructure as her plasma reactor overloaded, blowing her apart in a blue sphere of superheated plasma.

"No!" Madoka screamed and reached for the ship, but it was too late. Souls flooded out of the wreckage of the ship, hitting the pink film of presence Madoka placed around it a split second after the lance shot hit. Every thin sliver of being sent shivers through Madoka's spine; her skin tingled with electricity as blood rushed to her face, making her blush even harder. Her legs almost gave as her entire body shook with the constant sensation of absorbing these souls.

She wept. There were over ten thousand people on board the _Invicta_, and none of them survived the ship's destruction. Their absorption into her nearly debilitated her; the sensation was intoxicating indeed.

"We must abandon the planet. The invasion has already begun, and if we do not journey to Terra, more lives are going to be lost."

"… Is that what logic and reason tell you?"

He could taste Madoka's fury, and it startled Him a little: "It is the soundest course of action."

"Well, fuck you and your logic!" She screamed as she drifted into the atmosphere, "You're asking me to abandon billions of lives! How can I save the universe when I can't even save a single planet from doom?!"

"… These are the choices we have to make, my child."

"Fuck all of that! We're not abandoning the planet! Not without a fight!" She landed back into her body, having drifted away from it for but a split second in real time. Glancing at the sky, she could see streaks of light raining down on her beloved planet with trails of fire like a giant meteor shower. The sun had half sunk below the horizon; its rays colored the sky crimson, and the encroaching night made the phenomenon more visible.

"Their invasion has begun." He spoke with as calm a voice as ever. "The chances of our victory is slim."

"No. We still have the Magical Girls. We still have me. We still have some fight left in us." Madoka spoke out aloud. Her friends and comrades—Homura, Kyouko, Hitomi, Sayaka, the Eldar, and the surviving Guards—gathered around her, waiting for her next move.

"Without a mean to get them off the planet, we would have to defeat everything they throw at us." He argued, his voice a little irate. "We simply don't have the power to do that. Not yet."

"Then we die trying!"

"What about the rest of the people in the galaxy? Millions of people have perished as we speak defending the Imperium on hundreds of fronts!" He bellowed and Madoka shrunk instinctively from his anger.

"You can feel them, can't you? Their souls perishing in the Warp as they left their bodies; you can hear them, can't you?" He took a deep breath and a fragment of Madoka was brought out above the galactic plane.

She could hear them; oh yes, she could hear them when she wished she could not. Millions of souls, crying out in unison as they perished one minute after another, coloring the galaxy a milky white as they disintegrated. She wanted to reach out to them; she wanted to gather them into her existence, if not to save them then to feel the euphoria of absorbing them, but she could not. Her power as of right then could not yet encompass the entire galaxy. She had to watch as they disappear, their individual identities broken down by the ebbing currents of the Warp.

It was a sadistic choice, a Cornelian dilemma, a no-win situation that Madoka never wanted in the first place: "I thought… I thought the point of the contract was that we didn't have to make those decisions!"

The voice sighed. "Eventually. Eventually, my child. But at the moment, we remain weak while the enemies are strong beyond measure, with the full might of their gods at their back."

"… I may have a solution."

Far Seer Kirahla's voice broke the silence telepathically. Madoka could feel her reluctance in speaking up because her presence flared when she raged against Him, so she collected herself and allowed the Far Seer to speak.

"There exists three Webway Gates for Eldar troop movement. We could use them to get off the planet, if they function."

"Webway Gates?"

"A mean of rapid travel between points in space that I attempted to utilize before my mistakes caught up on me." He explained. "But Far Seer, what are you trying to do?"

Kirahla smiled dryly: "If we do not use the gates, we would perish anyway. In a fight between ideology and pragmatism, pragmatism always wins."

"And you hope to gain a favor with us so that one day you may call in said favor. Am I correct in assuming that, Far Seer?" He was amused, as was the Far Seer, whose smile simply grew into a grin as a response.

"But there are billions of people on the planet." Homura whispered quietly, "Even if we could get the gates to work, it would still take days, if not weeks, to gather them and ferry them to the gates. We don't have that luxury of time, nor do we have the forces to fend off the enemy for that long."

Suddenly, Madoka clenched her fist over her heart and almost collapsed. A pink film formed in the sky, and slivers of light could be seen colliding with it. Homura could see Madoka's body shivering as she leaned against her. The warmth of Madoka's skin was palpable even through her own garb as she felt Madoka's trembles.

"What's wrong? Are you okay, Madoka?" She embraced Madoka, trying to support both of them. Sweat rolled off of Madoka's forehead and dripped onto Homura's clothes as Madoka bit her lips.

"Hurry… the killing has already begun…" Madoka whispered.

* * *

><p>David ducked for cover as a bolt exploded a foot behind him, pulverizing a piece of the ruined wall and sending stone fragments all over the place.<p>

He was already in the heat of combat, and the odds were overwhelming. His squad was tasked with protecting "Madoka's family", as Lady Akemi instructed, and they were to lay down their lives before allowing their charge to come to harm. David asked not how and why the family of four was significant. His burning question was never that; if it was Lady Akemi's orders, there had to be a certain importance to them. But right then, it was a mixed flavor of despair, sadness and anger that filled his heart.

A score of Traitor drop pods had landed in their vicinity and all of them were converging on their position. They contained Traitor Guards, guardsmen who were just like him but had turned away from the Emperor. They were of minor concern except for their numbers, because these cretins were always weak of will and weak of skill, being formerly defectors from the Guard. Amidst bursts of violet las fire, he found a small opening. Popping his head out of cover, he lined up a shot against a Traitor Guard, and put a smoking sizzling hole into its forehead with a measured squeeze of his trigger.

"Emperor, give me the strength to carry my duty through, and smite those who seek to thwart me." David ducked back behind cover again as the cohorts of the dead heretic concentrated their fire at his position. Sliding a grenade free from his belt, he pulled the pin by biting onto the safety ring and tossed it blind from behind cover before he scurried away from that section of broken walls. There were hundreds of people in the building behind him; even though most of them were then ferried to the basement of the building by the local defense forces, if the Guardsmen fall, they would still be easy targets for the heretics.

He checked his lasgun power pack and found it empty, having expended the last bit of energy when he made his most recent kill. Discarding the large brick, he pulled out his last pack and quickly inserted it into his lasgun. The intermittent ring of the heavy bolters on the roof and on the balconies provided some temporary relief, as its deadly slugs tore through the flimsy armor of the Traitor Guards, leaving pieces of corrupt corpses strewn all around.

"Emperor, grant me the sight of the eagle, the calm of the breeze and the skill to smite the foe from afar." As the heavy bolters were roaring, David popped his head out of cover and found another Traitor Guard target. Squeezing the trigger once, his beam found the guard's chestplate and staggered him by blowing a chunk out of the armor. David switched to another target and tore its limb off with one shot, before being forced to dodge behind cover again.

"Dave! Dave!" Tom called to him over vox. David had no time to stop and listen to him; a Traitor Guardsman was lucky enough to have reached the stubby walls David was using as cover, but it was not so lucky when it hopped over them with a cackling howl. David cut the Traitor open with a thrust of his bayoneted lasgun, its foul blood and rotting intestines spilling onto the ground and splattering onto David himself, covering him with the stench of corruption.

"I'm out of ammo! Everything's gone to shit! We can't hold them off much longer!" An agonizing scream almost drowned out Tom's voice over vox. David consciously checked his ammo: he had a couple dozens of shots left, but they were not nearly going to be enough.

"Once the heavy bolters go quiet, we're all gonna fuckin' die!"

"The Emperor is our savior... He's our shield and protector..." David murmured, giving no heed to Tom's desperation over vox as he fired blind shots and somehow managed to hit an overconfident Traitor on the torso. Knowing that his position would soon be overwhelmed, as well, David dashed into a new section of cover, before having to dodge out of the way of a charging enemy.

The Traitor turned and found David, before eagerly licking its lips. David blocked its charging strike with his lasgun. Whispering a silent apology to the weapon's Machine Spirit, David pressed against the Traitor with all his might, pushing it down to the ground. It rolled as David stabbed with his bayonet, and then swept the ground with its legs, knocking David down as well. With the Traitor on top of him ready to strike, David had no choice but to reach for his sidearm-an autopistol. It died after David pumped a full magazine of lead into its torso, having never gotten the chance of finishing off its prey.

The ground trembled just as David shoved the sack of dead flesh off of him. A handful of drop pods landed extremely close to the building, and they did not carry more of the incompetent Traitor Guard as David hoped; no, they were carrying cargo far more insidious and lethal than those corrupted sacks of useless flesh.

Those were Space Marines, the angels of death that the Emperor had created to protect the Imperium, except that those were no angels, but vile vultures that clawed their way out of the deepest pits of the Warp. Their armor was colored black, gold and purple, and even laying his eyes on them caused David's head to hurt like it was going to explode. Some of them carried large vox projectors on top of their shoulders and carried grotesque and brashly colored weapons that looked vaguely like instruments.

Traitor marines.

David almost gave in to his despair. There was no way that his weapon could even scratch the marines' armor, weak as it was; he had to be a sharpshooter with the Emperor's luck at his back, because he could only hope to strike a joint or an exposed part of the heretic to hope to inflict meaningful wounds.

He sat behind the stubby walls and waited for the traitors to come closer. At close range, his weapon would be more powerful and more effective against them, even though there existed a high chance that he would not live through his first encounter. His death was a given, anyway; the heretic marines were without number, while the Guards defending the building were but a handful and their number dwindling by the second.

"Die! Die! Die!" Tom screamed over vox, before his maddened litanies were cut short by an agonized scream and static took over. David could only assume that the defenses had already been breached and his charge had already been slaughtered when the heavy bolters on the roof and the balconies were silenced; that would be the eventual result, even if the traitors had not broken through just yet.

He was alone and without allies, besieged on every side. He could not hope to complete his objective on his own, being a frail and helpless human as he was.

"Lady Akemi... Emperor... I've failed you both..." David whispered and caressed the grenade left on his belt. He would not have these traitors take him, nor would he run away. He would rather die to absolve his abject failure and at least take one of them with him; at least, that way, he would have spent his life well.

The trembling of the earth grew as the marines approached. There was only one chance.

David took a deep breath. He wanted to see Lady Akemi once more, and told her that he had served her well. He wanted to say that he had protected his charge and waited for his next task. It seemed like he would never get that chance.

He never expected that long exhale to catch the traitors' attention as one of them simply reached over the wall and grabbed his head. David squeezed off a beam just as the super soldier swatted his gun out of his hand. The beam struck the earth, vaporizing a small chunk of dirt. He tried to reach for his grenade, but the giant began to squeeze his skull.

His vision went white and black as the metal gauntlet dug into his skin. Beneath the grotesque helm of the heretic, it must be grinning with perverse delight at his suffering, David thought. He reached for his grenade and pulled the pin, letting the safety handle go, but it, too, was swatted out of his hand with a violent backhand. The grenade exploded harmlessly behind a wall much to David's despair, and he was sure that the creature in the helm was siphoning his despair to bolster its strength.

"I'm sorry, Lady Akemi... Emperor... please forgive this one for his sins..." He whispered as he felt his skull creak; he waited for it to break, but it never did.

Instead, he found himself on the ground with the arm of the traitor marine lying beside him, writhing and squirming and trying to attack him even while severed.

What the...?

It was then that he saw. Lady Akemi landed to the left of the traitor marine, her long hair fluttering in the wind. In her hand, a long power sword crackled with energy, marred by the black blood of the heretic. No doubt it was that very weapon that sliced through the heretic's armor and severed its arm. On her back, a pair of ethereal wings showed David a glimpse into the infinite void.

His prayers were answered. His wishes were granted. The Emperor had found him worthy.

David wanted to cry, but it was not the time for tears, for dozens of traitor marines approached Lady Akemi, firing their weapons and moving in a blur. They were out for blood as she decapitated his original assailant with one smooth strike; she was apparently a worthy opponent to them.

The black-haired Angel of Death did not blink, but instead she shook the heretic's blood off of her blade with a flick of her wrist, and then she flipped her hair. The wings on her back sprouted to span almost the entire battlefield, circling around not only the building but the immediate vicinity around it. Her bracers let out a brilliant burst of violet light, and then David's world changed.

He could only gasp in awe as stripes of monochrome covered each marine in random places. They were frozen in place; rather, they were forced in place. But the monochrome parts moved in unison, away from the ground and in a strange direction. Their bodies stretched, twisted, and writhed as the two parts moved differently from each other. Ceramite cracked and broke. Adamantium expanded and broke. Bones snapped and broke. Flesh stretched and broke. The differential movement tore their bodies apart in all but a handful of seconds.

Throughout the gruesome process of the heretics being dismembered, Lady Akemi was absolutely serene. David even thought he saw a slight smirk on her face, as though the slaughter of these filthy heretics were to her great satisfaction.

His eyes were glued to her. More creatures-daemons born from the pits of the Warp and manifested themselves around them-tried to assault her, but they too were torn apart in seconds. None could stop the black-haired Angel of Death, who walked slowly toward the evacuation center with an imperceptible smile. Something compelled him to follow.

Everything was going to be okay.

He would live to see another day.

* * *

><p>"I hope Homura got there in time." Madoka quietly whispered in her mind as she panted. She was well aware of the leverage the enemy would get if her family was captured. More importantly, given what she knew about the enemy, she did not want her family to suffer; they were not exactly kind and warmhearted people like her parents were.<p>

"Have faith, my child."

"The object of worship talking about having faith herself. Somehow I can't help but see the irony in that." Madoka chuckled as another wave of pleasure assaulted her defenses. Around her, drop pods and mycetic spores were landing left and right, their content replicating the chaotic battle she observed in orbit.

The pink film of psychic power she projected around the planet was not strong enough to stop the drop pods. She wished she could, but she had just found her power merely an hour ago, and she had not gotten used to manipulating that power yet. He had been helping her familiarize herself with such massive quantities of psychic might, and even though He was the most powerful psyker in the entire galaxy while He was much more complete, it was still going to take some time.

Meanwhile, her Magical Girls were doing their best at stemming the tide of slaughter and, in turn, help her fend off the ecstasy of feeding on the souls of the dead. They were acting on her orders; a psychic compulsion she sent out to all of them on the planet made sure of that. Distasteful as it was, even Madoka was aware that it was the only way to save as many lives as possible given her current state, debilitated as she was.

Her perception of reality was different from everyone else's, and it was certainly different from how she saw the world before her pact with Him. In addition to the waves upon waves of orgasmic euphoria she was getting from souls merging with her being, the voices of billions buzzed around in her mind threatening to drown out her own. She knew that she was unconsciously reading the mind of every sentient creature on the planet, and that she could pick out individual voices if she tried hard enough.

The situation was deteriorating The politicians and military leaders of the world were scrambling, their mighty armies already in shambles from the sudden and relentless assault of Chaos and Tyranids. People were being killed, eaten, maimed, raped, corrupted, and trampled in every manner possible; their screams were too much for Madoka to bear.

"Madoka... are you alright? Where are you? At least call me..." Her mother was not in danger yet, however; that much Madoka knew from listening in on her thoughts. She unconsciously felt where her pocket was, but she felt only the fabric of her dress. She was worried about Madoka, but Madoka had no means of contacting her mother...

She had no means to contact her mother...

A light bulb seemed to go off as Madoka tried to reach out to her telepathically. The link was tenuous at best amidst so much wails of suffering and screams of rage, but it was there and Madoka did her best to maintain the link with what little power she could muster: "Mom...?"

"Madoka!" Junko seemed surprised. "How did you...?"

"That's not important! You have to stay put!"

"Yeah, I figured as much from what's going on outside and from the news channels! What's going on out there? Are you okay? Did you save your friends?"

"I saved them..." Madoka wiped away a drop of tear from the corner of her eye, "but things are getting worse. I'm going to do my best and fix all of this mess, so... before that, please stay put and stay safe! I'll get people to protect you!"

"..." Her mother was silent for a moment. "Madoka."

"Yes, mom?"

"I know you're the type who'll give it your best when you set your heart out to do something, so..." Junko paused, as if choosing the right words to say, "... Stay safe and... and come home for dinner as soon as possible. I'll make cream stew for you."

Madoka giggled and wiped away another drop of tear. "Mom, you can't cook!"

"Well, it's never too late to start learning! Your dad'll lend me a hand!" Junko pouted.

"Yeah. I'll see you tonight, Mom. Stay safe and tell dad I said hi."

"Yeah. Watch yourself out there, Madoka."

Madoka nodded but kept the connection open. She immediately decided that it was a bad idea when a wave of pleasure assaulted her. As she severed the connection, her voice trembled with her shivering body and her muscles twitched: "How do we stop them...? How can we... stop the invasion?"

"Stopping the flow of reinforcements is impractical at this point, because already there are too many enemies for us to deal with on the ground and you know the number of Magical Girls you have under your command is dwindling and fast." He was right and Madoka knew it, which made it all the more bitter. The Magical Girls, for all of their strength and resolve, simply had no experience in dealing with that many deadly foes all at once. The Chaos Space Marines, with their ten thousand years of combat experience and their sadistic and violent tendencies, could easily tear her Magical Girls apart if they gang up on them. They were no clumsy familiars of a Witch. And the Tyranids...

"Can't we reduce the number of reinforcements and kill what we can? I have a bowl of cream stew to go back for..." A couple of exceptionally large mycetic spores landed in her vicinity, and terrible roars could be heard in the distance. Sayaka tightened her grip on her sword as she stood guard in front of Madoka, wary of anyone foolish enough to approach her. The field of repulsion Sayaka was radiating was another strain on Madoka's mind, but it works extremely well against the Chaos forces so Madoka had to bear with it.

"Maybe." He seemed to have sunk into deep thought. "We may be able to strike down a few ships in orbit with our power. It would be a taxing affair, but it can be done."

"Striking down a few ships?"

"Exotic seasoning for your stew." Her vision was again brought to space, but this time she was floating between two great groups of spaceships. They were the clouds that she touched before: the Tyranid Hive Fleet and the Chaos Fleet. They were firing into each other as they moved toward each other. She could identify small fighters just as easily as the large capital ships as they zipped past each other at extreme speeds, throwing everything they had at each other, pumping their targets full of whatever payload they carried.

Lasers of many colors and bombs of all sorts flew across space. A bioship could finally no longer take the punishment; as violet laser beams tore across its surface and bright purple plasma burst forth from its insides, its flesh bubbled and burst, and the entire ship spasmed. The Hive Fleet screeched as the ship died in a spectacular explosion of pus and slime. The screech was unlike anything Madoka had ever heard; it stabbed at her ears and her brain simultaneously, making her flinch like the Hive Fleet did. Chaos, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned about the loss of some of their ships. She could feel each ship cackling as they unleashed their arsenal, seemingly to beg for more of the bloodshed and slaughter.

"But would it be possible?" A space battle in the orbit of her planet was most certainly unacceptable. Whoever the victor was, her planet would be doomed; by the looks of things, the Chaos fleet was having the upper hand. The Hive Fleet had not the advantage of numbers, and losses were increasing as that number dwindled faster.

"You reached across the galaxy to send out a message." He smiled. "Do you not think you may have the power to destroy one or two ships?"

"Then..." Madoka closed her eyes. Another wave of pleasure assaulted her, forcing her to pull her vision back to the surface. She panted heavily: "We have to... hurry...!"

"Of course. We'll need Sayaka to be away from us as we prepare."

"Sayaka-chan...?" Madoka called between gasps before she let out a whimper. "Can you...?"

Before she could finish the words, a loud crash made her wince. A huge creature, covered in glistening chitin, barged through a building and roared. It had rows and rows of large bony protrusions on its back; one of its two pairs of arms ended in what looked like monstrously large lobster claws, while the other pair had cancerous balls of flesh at the end like a flail. Its tail had a large bulbous protrusion at the end. With a flick of its tail, the fleshy mace smashed straight through a load-bearing wall of a building on the side, and destroyed it outright.

"A Carnifex," He quietly commented in amusement, "the bugs certainly are giving it their all. I doubt it would help when they lose their battle in space."

Sayaka simply nodded, before disappearing into a blur of blue and black. The next moment, she was in mid-air, meeting the Carnifex's huge claws with her blades.

"We must hurry. It is likely that the Tyranids shall converge on our position and try to consolidate their base, as this region is currently the area with absolutely no presence of Chaos." He mused, "Let us begin. Close your eyes, and reach inside of yourself."

Madoka closed her eyes, but she knew not what "reach inside herself" meant. She clutched her hands in front of her chest and...

It reached into her chest. Madoka almost choked on her breath. What the hell?

"Everything is possible with enough power, and this is simply one way of materializing your weapon," He said. Unbeknownst to Madoka, a large intricate circle of pink glowing lines formed on the ground around her. It resembled a strangely patterned magic circle, and power coursed through the lines as it arced between lines.

"... And, what should I do next...?" She felt a burst of power accompanying a surge of pleasure. Knowing that she had just absorbed a batch of souls, Madoka felt a pang of remorse. Although spared the fate of dissipating in the Warp or being gobbled up by some greedy daemon, ultimately these souls could not maintain their individuality; in the short hour, she had absorbed over a million souls, and she had no idea how to keep them separate from each other.

And she was about to use them to fuel her first attack.

"Imagine your weapon. Imagine its texture. Imagine its material. Imagine its length. Think about every aspect of the weapon you can think of." He slowly and kindly instructed, and Madoka followed. She imagined a great bow as long as she was tall. The bow itself was made of a single branch of yew, forking into three at the upper limb; at the end of each limb rested a small pink rose in perpetual bloom. It had no other distinguishable features other than the strangely decorated forked limb; it had no sight window, no obvious position for a grip, and no place to rest the arrow. The string would be ethereal; it would be formed from her own power.

Her hand unconsciously pulled from her chest as she imagined the glorious weapon, and she opened her eyes. In her hand was a sphere of pink, which then quickly expanded into the shape of a bow, and then took on the shape, texture and properties of the very bow she had imagined.

"With enough power, everything's possible." He muttered as Madoka gasped in awe. "Now that you have a weapon, you needed to find ammunition for it. Close your eyes and picture. Close your eyes and imagine. Close your eyes and believe."

Madoka did so again. She found her newly-absorbed souls gathering in his right hand even when she tried her best to keep them back and maintain their individuality. No, she scolded, they were not meant for such a gruesome task; once she found out a way to keep them individual, she would contain them as she engineer a better place for them to stay. But the souls surged on, even as their individuality eroded more and more quickly as they travelled. They rejected her goodwill; they _wanted_ to be used as a weapon.

It was only just that the planet and its people strike the first blow.

Madoka resisted some more, but the flow of souls broke through her resistance. An arrow of pure white formed in her right palm. It was brilliant beyond measure as it glowed with the intensity of a thousand suns. It took her some effort to retain the shape of the arrow of souls. It screamed for release. It screamed for the blood of those who were responsible for this wanton slaughter.

"Nock the arrow, Madoka." And she did.

"Take aim." And she did.

"But I don't know what to aim at."

"Believe. Believe that you're going to hit a ship. It is going to explode like the most breathtaking firework that you had ever seen in your life." And she did. She imagined the ship to burst open like a firework shell, releasing a shower of brilliantly colored fragments into the sky. It would truly be a spectacular sight. And then there would be another one just like it. And then another.

"I'm ready."

"Draw." She took a deep breath. The air chilled and frost formed on the blades of grass around her. The power inside the magic circle glowed bright pink; a smaller but otherwise identical magical circle manifested itself around the head of the arrow.

She drew the string back full. The wood cried for release; the forked limb was wrapped in a large rose-shaped flame as it bent back painfully.

"Feel our wrath. Feel the world's fury. Feel the pain you inflicted on the innocent!" Both of them cried out in unison as a laser beam struck her figure. Superheated air plasma wrapped around her, but it did nothing; not a single blade of grass burned, and not a single crystal of frost melted.

She released the arrow. It split the laser beam right in the middle, carving a blazing path through the heavens as it flew into orbit and punched a clean hole through the multiple layers of shielding and the thick armor of a Chaos battle barge. All of the plasma conduits on the ship-including the plasma reactor that powered the ship-exploded violently and spectacularly all at once as a pure white burst of power coursed through them, blowing the battle barge apart at the seams into billions of small pieces.

The arrow turned and struck a grand cruiser at the engine, splitting the ship down the middle from stern to prow like a spit through sausage. That ship, too, disintegrated into billions of pieces, each no bigger than a human head. Another grand cruiser suffered the same fate when the arrow struck directly on the bridge of the vessel, punching through everything in between and coming out from the ventral side of the ship. The arrow finally stopped when it found the Planet Killer itself; the massive ship's void shield was too much for the arrow, but it still succeeded in burning out over half of the shield generators on that monster.

Madoka saw the explosions and smiled as she staggered. They were indeed visible from the surface against the darkness of the night. Though spectacular, the arrow had taken quite a bit of power from her even with the assistance of the souls.

"Well done, my child," He complimented her and metaphorically petted her head. "You have made me proud."

"Now... I just have to figure..." She was interrupted by a sensuous moan as another burst of souls was absorbed. "I just have to figure out how... how to fire them more frequently..."

"One step at a time, child. That arrow bought us some time; as long as the Hive Fleet still threatens the Chaos fleet, the Planet Killer won't fire."

"And what if it does...?" Madoka hoped that the ship did not function as its name suggested. "Why don't we destroy it instead?"

"If those four are worth their salt, we won't be able to deal with it here. Besides, I think Ezekyle Abaddon is going to soil himself right about now, seeing how we have just took out three ships and broke half of his void shield generators in one strike. That is a good thing."

Madoka smiled: "We just have to hold out until the people are all evacuated. I'll do my best!"

She took a deep breath, and focused on materializing another arrow.

* * *

><p>"Is the fucking Gate open yet!?" A hysterical Hitomi screamed telepathically. Her hammer swung into the side of a Chaos Marine trying to cleave her in half with its power axe: with a sickening crunch its armor caved in and the corrupt flesh exploded when her hammer unleashed its burst of energy inside it, liquefying whatever was inside that tin suit.<p>

More brilliant explosions lit up the heavens. As much as Madoka worked to keep the fleets from destroying another too quickly, there was no relief for the situation on the ground. Chaos Marines were still slaughtering thousands of people every minute across the globe, unholy rituals were summoning countless numbers of daemons from the Warp in places where Chaos was more entrenched, and the Tyranids had joined the fray with its own share of dangerously cunning creatures.

They had a couple thousand refugees gathered around the gate, packed like sardines in an area no bigger than a whole soccer pitch. That was all the land they could realistically cover with their current manpower, and even then they were miserably failing at their task. There were simply too many foes for a ragtag platoon of Guardsmen with absolutely no armor and only limited air support to handle: most of the Valkyries were being shot at airlifting civilians out of the city, and the number of these aircrafts were dwindling fast without active escort.

Chaos and Tyranid air units wrestled for control of the skies. Although their missiles and cannon fire caused some casualties, fighter jets from the military were swept from the skies by laser fire and intelligent bio-weapons. Ground-based anti-air missile sites and gun batteries were quickly silenced thanks to vile bombs from Hell Talons and troops freshly emerging from Dreadclaws.

"You should be thankful to whatever _mon-keigh _god to which you pray that I used to be a Bonesinger before I was lost on the Seer path," Kirahla scribbled brightly-lit glyphs in the air and sung when she fired off that telepathic retort. The Webway Gate grumbled a hum at her beckoning, but it was not cooperating with her efforts. She had worked various methods to restore the circuitry of the ancient Gate, but it refused to light a portal.

"Well, ya mind hurryin' the fuck up a lil, caz we're kinda busy keepin' ya alive over here!?" Kyouko's own bellowing was impressive in its own right as she speared a purebred Genestealer in its chest and bashed another with the corpse. Behind her, Guardsmen dug in and fired out of the trenches with whatever firepower they could muster, dropping Genestealers and Traitor Guards left and right.

The Chaos space marines, though, was another matter. Although initially there were few of them in the attacking force, their numbers had been steadily increasing. Fortunately for the defenders, most of them were tied down in combat with the elite strains of Tyranids such as Warriors or Lictors; unfortunately for the defenders, as their numbers grew, more and more of them were free to attack the sizeable refugee population.

The addition of Chaos Raptors and Havocs was even more worrisome to Kane. These were extremely potent warriors on the battlefield; their combat experience, compounded with their devastating weaponry, made for impressive opposition. As he observed while lying on the stretcher close to Kirahla, a Raptor came crashing down into the civilians with a smoking hole in its head. There was no place to run for the people below; a couple unfortunate souls were crushed into paste as the two-ton hunk of metal-encased flesh tumbled into the crowd.

"Would you fucking mind where you kill the bastard!?" Hitomi saw the kill as well in her peripheral vision; her psychic scream was almost incoherent. "You just turned people we're trying to save into fucking collateral damage!"

Azrael gave a dirty stare at Hitomi's location, before squeezing off another shot that put a neat hole into a Havoc's plasma cannon. Its plasma reservoir exploded into a brilliant ball of blue, melting away its wielder's armor and boiling away its flesh. The explosion took a dozen Traitor Guards with it, their bleached bones scattering onto the glassy ground.

Kane rolled off of his stretcher and winced when his wounds caught him doing something they did not appreciate at all. His limbs and torso were still wrapped in fresh bandage; some blood seeped through, as a handful of wounds were deep enough to have yet to heal completely.

"You can't move yet!" Hitomi yelled at him telepathically, but Kane ignored her.

"Do not worry about me. We need as many able-bodied people as possible to fight, and I am not going to shirk from my duty." The situation demanded more of her attention than she could give, anyway; it was not the time for her to be worrying about his health. He shambled into the trenches and found a pair of bolt pistols and a chainsword with which to arm himself. His wounds prevented him from quick movements; this did not prove to be much of a hindrance, however, as Kane effortlessly shoved his bolt pistol up the jaw of a Traitor Guard as it jumped into the trench, and blew its head into a fine mist of blood.

Another blast of light illuminated the sky. Kane yelled into his vox caster: "Guardsmen! The Emperor is with us! Even now, with His divine wrath, He smites our foes above! We are His hammer! We are His blade! We shall not fail! We shall not falter! We shall bring glory to the God Emperor!"

Hitomi was amazed at the wave of cheers she got over vox. The mere mention of the Emperor seemed to inspire confidence and courage amongst the ragtag band of soldiers, and the volume of fire coming from the trenches seemed to double. The Traitor Guards were cut down in swathes as heavy bolters and grenade launchers let their hearty roars echo in the forest around them.

"Deal with the Traitor Marines," Kane ordered and Hitomi obeyed almost instinctively. Hefting her war hammer, she caught a Raptor in its chest with her swing as it came barreling down at her with its weapon. The hammer caved the ceramite armor it wore right in the center of its eight-point star, and then blew it away with an explosion of water green energy. The corpse of the Chaos marine flew into the squirming mass of Traitors and Tyranids, flattening gaunts and guards alike.

"Guardsmen! Focus on keeping the heretics away from His subjects!" Kane ordered to a flurry of acknowledgements. He then relayed his order to the Magical Girls and the Eldar: "Allies of the Emperor! Keep the Traitor Marines away from the innocent!"

"Do not presume you have authority over me, _mon-keigh_," Azrael rebutted before putting another clean hole into a tactical Chaos marine's head. Retaliatory fire blew away his perch on top of a tree by cutting away its branches and lighting the tree on fire, but he escaped by leaping to several trees in quick succession.

"But you did as he asked, Mr. Pathfinder," Mami smiled. Azrael extended his hand in mid-air. A golden strip of power shot out from his hand and coiled itself around a branch, acting like a swing and bridged him over to the next tree. "Would you please be more honest with yourself?"

"Silence," Azrael could only utter a single word as Mami's giggle filled his head. "This is no time for fun and games."

"And yet you're visibly having fun," said Mami, referring to the sadistic glee in Azrael's smile as he severed the bladed limb of a Tyranid warrior with a single shot. "I think it's time you drop the pretense of hating us humans. Why can't we all get along?"

"Silence, I said!"

The indignation brought him no benefit. Instead, it distracted him from noticing a Lictor dropping onto the tree behind him. By the time both he and Mami noticed, it was almost too late. The Lictor brought its muscular scythe-like arm down on Azrael. He severed one with a shot, but he had no time to deal with the other as it went for his heart. Azrael twisted his body but he could not avoid the bladed arm in time. Closing his eyes, he waited for the strike.

But it never came. The arm froze in mid-air as it lost its color and sheen. The creature screeched in extreme pain as something tore off the arm, sending red blood and some unknown ichor spewing out of the appendage's stump.

The scream of a Valkyrie overhead reminded both Azrael and Mami of who had just lent them a hand. Homura stood on the open hatch door at the rear of the aircraft; the passengers—dozens of them, including Madoka's family—sat and observed with frightened eyes at what just happened.

"I cannot afford losing you at this moment," the black-haired time manipulator whispered telepathically before hopping off of the transport.

A pair of black ethereal wings sprouted behind her and brought her soaring over the battlefield. Such blatant show of power was not blithely ignored by the enemy. Colorful bolts of psychic energy suddenly erupted from the shimmering chaotic brew of combatants below her: all deadly sorceries aiming to take her life.

Like a graceful angel gliding through the air, Homura lurched back with a flap of her wings. Every single bolt suddenly lost their color and dispersed. Azrael felt the psychic gasp of the sorcerers and the feral displeasure of Zoanthropes all over the battlefield, as if none of them expected it to happen.

"Show off," Mami pouted. In a rare moment of amicability, Azrael agreed.

With another flap of her wings, Homura flew higher into the sky and greeted her priority target: the fliers in the sky that threatened the evacuation operation. A Tyranid Shrike screeched to its death as a Hell Talon collided with it while its head was being torn off of its body, which had lost its color. The Hell Talon came out mostly intact, but only briefly: its two wings were violently sheared off of its body, which then slammed into an oncoming Harpy before detonating like a missile.

A Hell Talon, its pilots perhaps fearing the wrath Homura would visit upon them, released its payload way too early. It was originally meant for the group of Gaunts rapidly approaching the melee around the group of civilians, but it instead would drop on top of the Gate and disperse its deadly payload over the civilians instead. The bomb lost its color when it froze in mid-air and started moving in an unnatural direction. It kissed a swarm of Sky-slashers when it regained its color; an explosion of vile toxins melted flesh off of bones as Homura used it as an impromptu anti-air weapon.

"I have the skies," Homura echoed telepathically. A Tyranid Shrike brandished its talons and charged at her, only to feel the steel of her power sword bite into its flesh as she cleaved half of it off with one strike. "I say again, I have the skies."

"Time to do our job, Guardsmen! The Emperor watches over us!" Kane announced.

* * *

><p>Madoka indeed watched over them. Beams of crimson and violet descended upon the planet, only to be dispersed by the thin film of pink around the planet's stratosphere. Drop pods, Dreadclaws and mycetic spores slowed as they approached the film. Some of them disintegrated on impact; others, wrapped by layers of sorcerous protection, managed to pierce the film and land.<p>

She could feel her power slowly draining out of her. The pink film served two purposes: protecting the planet from orbital bombardment, and isolating the souls of the perished innocents from the predations of the Warp. There was not much she could do to prolong the naval battle longer; although the Black Crusade's fleet had suffered heavy casualties from the small Hive Fleet and from her, it outnumbered and outgunned the Tyranids even after shedding half of its size. As its destroyers and cruisers mopped up the remnant of the Tyranids, its capital ships and its Blackstone Fortress turned their attention to the planet.

Much harsher punishment for the planet would soon follow. Madoka understood the intent of the Chaos fleet: to capture or destroy her along with Him inside. Without her, they would do as they please across the galaxy; carving a path of blood and carnage across the stars was only one of their goals.

"Say," she asked Him as they sprinted with Sayaka in tow. Sayaka dismembered the Carnifex with surgical precision, and disrupted the synaptic link of the rest of the swarm around them with her power. "Do you think that, after we leave the planet, they'd leave it alone and come after us?"

"Not unless we leave in something they can chase after, and even then…" Madoka knew that her hope, however pessimistic, was futile when His voice trailed off. The scenario was as bad as she thought it was; the planet was doomed unless the Chaos fleet was completely annihilated. Given her current power level, and given the attention their foul gods paid to this battle, it was an impossible task even for her.

A trio of Dreadclaws landed in front of them. Without hesitation, Madoka obliterated all of them with a trio of pink arrows. They exploded like half-empty tanks of Promethium, spraying their content all over the field.

"Okay, but first… Can you do something… about this…?" Another wave of souls rushed into the pink film. Madoka's knees gave way in the middle of a sprint. She tumbled and landed on her front; she stayed there for a couple of seconds before trying to get up.

"Is it bothering you? The feeling of euphoria as you absorb these souls?"

"Yes… it's… I can't get addicted to this!" She pleaded when she got up. "If I did… I don't know if I can stop…"

"I can." His words raised a glimmer of hope in Madoka's mind, but he crushed it quickly: "But I will not."

"Why…?"

"There are no easy ways out of the burdens you must bear, my child. You must understand the resolve and courage it takes to bear these things as a ruler, for it is you who must set an example for your subjects." Madoka could feel an ethereal palm stroking her head like her father used to do. "In addition, dulling your senses will slow your reflex and further reduce the power we can wield. It is most unwise to do in the middle of heated battle."

"Being someone important sure is hard work…" Madoka smiled before bearing through the assault of another wave of pleasure, "but if that's all of it… then I'm sure I can deal with it somehow…"

"Tempting fate is not a good habit, even for beings like us," He chuckled as a chaotic maelstrom of wind blasted her. Something had just landed in front of her, and from the looks of it, it was not a single Dreadclaw or even an exceptionally large mycetic spore.

Madoka immediately fired a pink arrow at it. The arrow cleared a tunnel through the smoke and dust and struck the body, but it inflicted no damage on it. Instead, it split into countless specks of energy and dispersed.

Emerging from the cloud of dust was a large, crimson figure that was at least ten feet tall. Leathery daemonic wings grew on its back; a single flap caused a draft so turbulent that Madoka had trouble standing in place. Its massive legs ended in cloven hooves; crimson bronze armor covered the legs and all the way up to its hip. Its torso was covered with a piece of tattered loincloth; the cloth itself seemed to be soaked in still fresh blood, which dripped from the bottom edge. It wore a single piece of well-crafted bronze breastplate, and the massive pauldrons on its shoulders were ornately decorated with many, many agonized faces. Its face was like that of a T-Rex that Madoka had seen in models in a museum, only that sharp horns grew on its skull. In its hands, a large sword gleamed with terrible black sheen.

"Angron… my son…" He seemed to take a long and deep breath upon the utterance of its name.

So this was what became of His sons that turned against Him, Madoka gasped as she gazed upon the horrible figure. She could only see lust from its glowing eyes, and it was different from the lust she thought she understood. It was a lust for blood so intense that it could only be satiated when the entire planet—nay, the entire universe—was flooded with freshly-spilled blood of the living.

It roared, and Madoka had to shield her ears. Angron was easily twice her height, and from his stature, there was no contest between him and her in terms of physical prowess. By the looks of it, she had to go through him in order to get to the Webway Gate.

"Blood… for the Blood God!" He let out a guttural war cry before he took a step. The earth shuddered when his hoof stomped down; glass windows of buildings around them shattered as the small tremor subsided. Scores of greater daemons appeared as his war cry trailed off. They were forged from his image, and they, too, brandished terrible weapons of war.

Madoka nocked an arrow and fired. It lodged into the face of one of the Bloodthirsters before exploding in a pink flash of light, obliterating its head completely. The creature twisted into a ball of violet Warp fire and disappeared, but its companions were not deterred. One after another, they took to the air and descended upon Madoka, their blades hungering for her blood.

"Gnats!" Her eyes glowed a brilliant gold as she swept with her palm. A golden arc of power rushed forth; on contact with the Bloodthirsters, they burst into Warp fire and disintegrated without a single whimper. Angron howled at the sight of the golden arc. It was something he recognized, something that he had seen before. Madoka, on the other hand, gasped for breath; He forced the last strike from her by hijacking the veins of her power and using it for His purposes.

"Next time… warn me before you do something crazy…" She wiped some sweat off of her forehead. The Bloodthirsters did not concern her; individually they posed little threat to her. She knew, however, that other than her, there was no one on the planet that could stop Angron's rampage.

"I will try," He answered with a small smile when Madoka focused some power in her palms to form a golden long sword. "Would you like some help with that, my child?"

"That would be very much appreciated," she answered: "Sayaka, watch my back."

Sayaka nodded enthusiastically. The ground seethed with ethereal energy in the form of a violet mist. Bloodthirsters and Bloodletters seemed to "grow" out of them like bamboo shoots after rain. The blue-haired Magical Girl took in a deep breath and blew away much of the mist around her with her power. Smaller daemons shrunk from her vicinity marked by a lack of the violet mist; those Bloodletters who dared enter had their flesh stripped off of their bones as the connections between them and the Warp were forcibly severed.

With Sayaka keeping the rest of the creatures busy, Madoka could then focus on Angron. Both of them dashed toward each other; Madoka's wings flapped behind her as she took flight like the angel of wrath, her golden sword crackling with psychic might. The Daemon Primarch met the Nascent Goddess head on, its giant daemonic blade colliding with the golden sword with a noise that had refugees around the Gate shielding their ears, even though they were kilometers away.

Angron would not advance a single step further. Meeting the Daemon Primarch head on, Madoka's sword did not budge even as the much larger creature pushed her with all his might. The blades screeched, the golden sword biting into the daemonic blade's edge as it slid further and further up its adversary's length until finally it slid free. Angron's body lurched forward, his sword plunging itself into deep earth as Madoka flew slightly away from him. She then charged at him again, her sword raised high to strike.

The swing of the golden sword was met with the Daemon Primarch's bronze bracer. The sword of pure psychic might cleaved the bracer but failed to slash his skin. With a furious roar, Angron swatted Madoka from the sky by swinging his arm, shoving Madoka behind her. He turned around using this opportunity, and brought his daemonic blade down on her, who was busy stabilizing her stance in mid-air.

The two weapons met with another metallic clang that remained audible for miles. The sheer mass of the daemonic sword and the lack of proper support forced Madoka to land on the ground as she parried the strike. Her feet made two small impact craters as she landed; her bones creaked and her muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored them. Angron raised his sword again for another strike, but Madoka was much swifter than that, having already shifted out of position and lunging for a clean hit.

And she got the hit she wanted. The sword landed its tip in Angron's waist, piercing the loincloth and his armor. Part of the sword seemed to disappear as it entered the Daemon Primarch. Angron screamed in agony, his corrupt flesh charring from the purifying light of Madoka's blade. She let go of the hilt; the sword completely disintegrated the moment she released her grip, becoming a blinding burst of light that seared much of the flesh around the wound.

The Daemon Primarch was not about to let this opportunity slide. Swiftly turning around, he raised his sword high and swung it down between Madoka's neck and shoulder, hoping to cleave her in half with one fell strike. His hope was dashed, however, when Madoka blocked the sword with a pink ethereal bracer on her wrist. The daemonic blade screeched. The ethereal bracer slid along the blade's length as Madoka tried to deflect the blow and lift the blade away from her.

"_Sit Erumpebat!_" The bracer exploded in a shower of golden sparks. The movement of her arms along with the momentum of the explosion jerked the sword away from her. Simultaneously, she manifested a golden spike in her right palm and with a beat of her wings streaked up into the air. Then, like a bolt of white lightning, she descended upon Angron, who was busy recovering his stance.

With a slap, the golden spike drove into the Daemon Primarch's neck. He howled in pain as it disappeared into his flesh, and tried to bash Madoka in vain with his arm. As gingerly as a butterfly, Madoka took off and away from him, putting sufficient distance between them before forming a new sword of gold.

"I hope you have a plan," she panted from both exhaustion and arousal brought by the non-stopping stream of souls into the barrier. It was but a minute of combat, but it was the first time Madoka was in close combat and against a Daemon Primarch of all things. She had given control of her body to Him, using His combat experience to drive her potent psychic abilities in order to stand against Angron, but she knew she was outmatched. Her power was nowhere close to her best, being divided between the planet-sized barrier and her current mission, and Angron had the blessing of his foul god.

"I do," He answered with reassuring resolution. Angron was all over them again in the blink of an eye. Their weapons clashed and Madoka knew that she could not meet him head-on like this much longer, for the difference between their strength was too great. With a blast of psychic energy she shook loose his sword, and using her speed she raised up into the air and let loose a fan of golden knives at Angron. The knives worked their way through his armor and disappeared into him. Madoka landed some distance away from him again, sliding on the ground to slow her speed.

"Visualize the impact points," He commanded, and Madoka's vision turned into a strange wireframe representation of reality as if she was wearing some kind of computerized goggles. Angron was the red mass directly in front of her, while Sayaka and a large sphere of space around her was completely devoid of any lines. Madoka noticed that, wherever she had injured Angron had shown up as golden sparks that glinted in her current vision; they were positions into which she had injected her power.

"You planned all of this from the start, using fragments of our power to plant seeds into him that would sprout into some kind of spell," she realized with a gasp.

"In our current shape, completely banishing a Khorne-blessed Daemon Primarch would be out of the question. Angron has the blessing of the strongest Chaos god, and Khorne would do everything to ensure our defeat. Although we cannot completely defeat him, we _can_ buy some time for the evacuation to complete and retreat to the Webway where it is much more difficult for Chaos to follow," He answered calmly as Angron charged like a mad bull. "Now, then, Miss Matador… let us put an end to this spectacle."

"_Vinciatur!_" She rolled sideways and dodged out of Angron's path. At her command, golden chains grew out of the Daemon Primarch and anchored themselves firmly in earth, restraining his ankles, wrists, neck and his torso. However he struggled, the chains refused to give way.

Madoka landed close to Sayaka, who was having a lot of trouble with the Bloodthirsters. Even though she was one of the soulless Pariahs that specialized against Warp-based powers and creatures, the sheer number and the environment around her were too much. Sayaka retracted her zone of void to allow Madoka to still manifest her power. She was panting hard as well, but the number of daemons around her did not seem to decrease at all.

"Let me help you with that," Madoka smiled as she drew her bow and let fly an arrow. The pink projectile frayed into countless beams and struck each one of the daemons; some invisible force crushed them into balls of Warp fire that were then snuffed out forever.

Sayaka sheathed her swords and nodded at Madoka. Angron roared with savagery behind them as he struggled against the bonds; seeing the armies of Greater Daemons obliterated with one strike had to have some effect on his broken psyche.

"The spell will restrain him, but it will not last," He reminded Madoka, who turned around and looked at the Daemon Primarch, "We must complete the evacuation, and soon. Though Khorne is not one to harm hapless civilians, neither is he one to care about collateral damage."

"Yeah," Madoka sighed, "it looks like we've got to hurry. We need to save everyone."

* * *

><p>David kept the heavy bolter mounted on the Valkyrie's side roaring. Even after it had run out of fuel, the aircraft was still a good piece of cover for the Guardsmen. Their number had already dwindled to no more than two scores. Regimental command had all been killed in the fierce fighting around the blob of refugees, whose number was also steadily decreasing despite their best efforts.<p>

To David, this was nothing but another day in the Imperial Guard. He had seen worse in the hives of Armageddon, where the piles of corpses were so high that they used them as cover against the green-skinned Orks. To the civilians he was protecting, however, it was the bloodiest scene they had ever witnessed in their lives. Some of them lost their mind and wanted to escape; the fate of those who tried to do so was reminder enough that their current position was probably the safest place on the planet.

He had no time to glance up into the sky. Fortunately, the pink shield high up in the sky stopped orbital bombardment from reaching the surface, but there were still significant numbers of enemy fliers in the sky. Lady Akemi had essentially dominated the airspace around the site, but the volume of enemy aircrafts and flying creatures flooding into the area was enough to keep her from supporting actions on the ground. David knew that both his life and the refugees' were due to the tenacity of the Magical Girls on the ground.

He still felt uneasy. Although supplies on the Valkyrie was plentiful and his heavy bolter had over two thousand rounds of ammo, it would still be meaningless if the Xenos portal behind him would not open. The waves of heretics and xenos would first sap his ammo dry and then overwhelm the Magical Girls on the ground, who was already exhausted from nonstop combat.

"There's… no end to them!" David could even hear the psychic communications between the Magical Girls and the Eldar xenos. Lady Akemi had extended the communications network between the Magical Girls to even include these guardsmen ever since regimental command got shot to hell; it would be easier to coordinate defense, she said.

"Jus' keep killin'! Keep killin' till the portal's open! Oi, space elf, is it done yet!?" It was a strange sensation to hear these disembodied voices in his head, but instinctively he could identify everyone from these voices due to their distinctiveness. He was glad that he could finally understand these women. Despite his combat experience, however, he found no courage to actually speak up.

"It would have been done already if you had not pestered me every fifteen seconds!"

"Keep it up, everyone! We're almost there!" This was a different voice. It was not Kyouko's harsh grouse, Hitomi's forceful grunt, Homura's deathly monotone, the Inquisitor's baritone rumble, or the Eldar's alien convolutions. This voice was as close to a heavenly voice as he could imagine mixed with youth and vigor.

The source of the voice then flew overhead. She was an angelic figure dressed in a pure white dress that clashed horribly with his surroundings, but David physically felt the aura she exuded. The heretics in his sights seemed to recoil at her presence; the weak-minded of them even broke down and kneeled on the ground before spontaneously combusting into violet flames.

"The Goddess Empress graces us with Her presence!" The Inquisitor announced with enthusiasm, and the words reverberated in David's skull.

The Goddess Empress.

He had always thought that his God, his Lord and Master, was a man. That He sat on His Golden Throne and watched over them. That His will was for them to earn their salvation through service. That He would deliver the faithful to His side, an eternal paradise of happiness and light.

He… no, She… had manifested herself in the mortal realm. And She fought alongside him.

"Burn the heretics in Her name!" There was no greater honor. This was, undoubtedly, his—and his entire regiment's—finest hour.

Madoka hovered a bit above the mass of refugees. Three pairs of wings flapped behind her, but she did not need them to keep herself afloat. "Is the angelic imagery really important here?" She asked as she nocked an arrow. She could feel the approach of something horrible in the distance, and she was preparing for it.

"Morale is an important part of war. Our presence had unnerved the enemies and give them a reason to retreat, but demoralizing the enemy alone is not enough. Given that we have few defenders, it is even more crucial to activate their fighting potential," He said as Madoka took aim. The shapes in the distance were Traitor Titans; they were rampaging their way across the land toward Mitakihara, slaughtering thousands in their way. In minutes, the refugee camp would come into the range of the Titans' mighty cannons, and a single shot would annihilate everything around her.

She was not about to let that happen. Drawing her bow to the max, she felt the wood in her bow creak and groan for the release. She took a deep breath, and let the arrow fly. Defying the law of physics, the arrow traveled vast distances in a straight line and split into several dozen that struck each Titan in its chest. Their collapse inwards was accompanied by howling screeches that echoed across the entire area; their armor plates twisted and grumbled as they folded into each other, being crushed like an aluminum can under jackboots. As the maelstrom of psychic power finally subsided around the Titans, what remained of their hulking forms were simple white human-sized beckoning cat dolls.

"You are a strange one when it comes to imageries," He commented as Madoka let out a breath. The constant waves of euphoria that came with absorbing souls had already dulled, but she did not think it fortunate. People were still dying by the droves; she had just gotten used to absorbing them into her existence.

"I thought instead of war machines, I should turn them into something cute—UGH!" Her weak smile was quickly wiped out by a pained grunt and a visible flinch as if she was punched in the gut.

"Madoka!" Homura almost panicked. "Are you all right!?"

"There was…" Madoka gasped as she tried to recover from the hit, "there was this huge… burst of energy attacking… attacking the barrier…"

"Looks like they've completely secured orbital dominance," He grunted, "It must have been from the Planet Killer. A shot from its main cannon would be able to destroy the entire planet."

"Then I have to stop it—ARGH!" Another gut punch made Madoka almost black out. Brilliant streams of energy dispersed across her barrier like water from a fire hose splashing against a glass dome.

"The Ruinous Powers must be getting desperate," He sighed with a bitter chuckle, "they have greatly increased the recharge rate of the cannon, it seems. You will have to bear with the pain."

"It's… nothing!" Madoka gritted her teeth. The pink barrier around the planet thickened in response to the Planet Killer's bombardments, which came again just as Madoka finished her sentence. The crowd yielded a small clearing for her when she landed, and immediately she kneeled on the ground holding her hands over her stomach.

"Madoka! Damn it, you useless Eldar! Get the damn portal open!" Homura almost screamed in Kirahla's face. "Get it open now!"

"Yelling at me is not going to resolve the problem," Kirahla tossed her a bone-chilling stare. "The circuitry is ready, but we require a significant burst of psychic energy to ignite the gate. I shall need a few minutes to gather it."

"We don't have a few minutes, damn it!" Homura's scowl came as Madoka took another hit from the Planet Killer. "If you don't light it quickly, Madoka is…!"

"I'm… fine, Homura-chan…!" Madoka collapsed on the ground hugging her belly.

"No, you're not—FUCK!" Homura cursed out aloud as a Hell Talon almost grazed her nose and released its payload. Reacting quickly, she punctured the cockpit of the offending Hell Talon with the bio bomb it dropped and had the bomb explode right inside it.

"Homura-chan… take care of yourself… uguu!" Madoka managed to squeeze these words out of her clenched teeth. The pain really was like nothing she had felt before. A punch in the gut, at least, wouldn't be this agonizing; she felt like something was violently messing with her insides. Every time a shot hit, it was like a large nail being forcibly hammered into her liver or even spleen. The shots were only a few seconds apart, and the pain overwhelmed every other feeling she had.

A pair of warm hands wrapped around her shoulder when she trembled again. That pair of hands gently lay her head on her lap.

"Mom…" Junko squeezed through the crowd of refugees and sat beside Madoka. She was holding her daughter's head like a baby, using her thighs as a pillow for Madoka to rest. "Mom… sorry… I got you into this mess…"

"It's okay, girl," Junko had something glittering at the corner of her eye. "It's okay… hang in there…"

Kirahla let out a loud ground of effort as she sent a brilliant bolt of psychic lightning into the portal's frame. With a few flickers, the Webway portal sprang to life and generated a pale circle of ether within its frame.

"The portal's open!" The Far Seer announced, leaning against the frame in exhaustion. "Through the portal! Now!"

"Guardsmen! Evacuate your charge!" David moved as Lady Akemi commanded. His heavy bolter had a handful of shells left, anyway; staying in position and providing cover fire was no longer an option. He covered the evacuees as best as he could with his rifle, dropping frenzied Gaunts left and right while constantly shifting positions, defending a long line of civilians all by himself. This was the Goddess Empress' will, he believed. As long as She was with him, and as long as he served her faithfully, he—and the civilians She so loved—would get out of this mess safely.

The number of Tyranids in the area was nearly negligible. There were not many that made it to the planet's surface in their mycetic spores thanks to Madoka's barrier, and the bitter fighting they had against the Black Crusade's forces before they could become entrenched further wore down their numbers. Still, there was the occasional tremor of Raveners tunneling to the front lines and emerging amidst groups of heretics. Roars of a handful of Carnifexes tearing their way through Chaos tank columns could be heard faintly in the distance.

Sayaka landed beside David. The sheer revulsion of her existence prompted David to fire a shot at her. The shot did not connect, because Sayaka was already tangled in combat with a Bloodletter, even though it was only for a moment. Effortlessly her blade made a clean cut through the sinewy arm of the daemon. The blood that gushed out of it did not even hit the ground before her next strike halved the creature through its torso, spilling its spontaneously-combusting innards everywhere.

His uneasiness quickly faded as Sayaka dashed into the thick of combat. The blue-haired magical girl seemed to display an unusual kind of glee in the slaughter, even though her face was perpetually calm. Body parts that spontaneously combusted in warp fire drew long arcs as they flew through the air, signs of her dismantling operations against the Chaos forces.

The evacuation was relatively calm. The Magical Girls were having easier and easier times defending the shrinking mass of refugees as they made their way through the Webway portal somewhat orderly. As the defensive line shrunk, however, the Traitors gained more and more ground. They seemed more audacious as they advanced, but at the same time, more desperate. Obliterators were teleported onto the battlefield. Though they could lay down heavy fire against the retreating civilians, they instead chose to focus their fire on the center of it all. They chose to attack Madoka: crimson beams of lascannon fire screamed in the sky as they clashed against her scintillating barrier protecting herself and her mother from harm.

"Guardsmen! PROTECT YOUR EMPRESS!" Instead of warding the sky, Homura quickly descended with her ethereal wings and tore apart an Obliterator four time her size with but her bare hands. Parts of her hapless victim—who would normally be a deadly living weapon of mass destruction capable of annihilating entire Guard platoons—lost their color as they were violently ripped off of its main body. It tried to grow weapons from its flesh, but it could not maintain its balance when its leg was forcefully pulled apart from its main body with a sickening split.

David and his brothers quickly formed a firing line behind Her barriers. All that remained of the proud 444th were but a handful of them, and David was the lucky one. One of them had an eye gouged out from shrapnel; it was patched with a piece of dirty cloth and he fought on. Another had his entire left hand missing. The stump seemed to have been scorched shut through fire, and he stabilized his rifle with his forearm.

His Goddess lay behind him. Madoka managed to hold back her screams of pain as she fended off the Planet Killer's endless barrages. The entire Black Crusade completely disregarded the ground action that was still ongoing. Each ship had turned their prow-mounted gun that was usually reserved for other capital ships against the planet. Madoka's barrier blocked all of their shots, but the strain on her power was considerably more significant.

"Evacuation is complete," the Inquisitor said. He escorted the last civilian refugee through the Webway portal and then stood beside the gate, shooting anything lucky and foolish enough to attempt to enter. "We must go, my Lord; the planet is lost."

"But… the rest of the Magical Girls… the rest of the people… ARGH!" Madoka clutched her hand in front of her chest. No one could repair the other two Webway portals. She was in no shape to teleport halfway across the globe to repair those. The one behind them at the moment was the only one that enabled escape from this planet.

"My child, you are in no shape to worry about them," He urged, "You must ensure your own survival first, before you can think about saving the others."

"If I run away… then the planet… everyone would die. I wouldn't want to live if… that's the… GUH! … If that's the outcome… "

"This is not a matter if whether or not you want to live. Many more lives hang on the balance, and not just on this planet. All over the galaxy, mankind needs you. They need us."

"Guardsmen! Escort Her through the portal!" David dashed to Madoka's side. He attempted to prop Madoka up, only to be flung away like a dart.

"No! I'm not leaving! Not without the rest of…!"

"Listen to me, my child!"

"You promised not to force me choose again! Not like this! Not with these choices! No!"

"It is not the time to argue! We need to leave before everyone gets killed!" He bellowed over Madoka's sobs. "If we perish here, not only is the planet going to be destroyed, but billions more will die! Why can you not understand!?"

"Because I want to save everyone! Why am I still… so… powerless…?"

"GUARDSMEN! ARE YOU DEAF!?" Homura's enraged screech was enough to call David's mind out of the brief moment of unconsciousness. He had to scramble up, shake off the disorientation of his concussion, and once again dash to Madoka's side. This time, Homura was beside him. She took Madoka and carried on her shoulders, and then gestured David to help Junko stand.

"Pardon me for my impudence, ma'am," he whispered softly. Junko seemed to understand him: she nodded slightly and made no attempts to resist. He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and propped her up before dashing toward the portal. In his peripheral vision, he could see his brothers moving with him, covering his retreat. The rest of the Magical Girl squads were already at the portal with the Inquisitor. It was a storm of chaos, as well, with all of them fighting side by side, struggling to keep the portal area free of hostile creatures.

David heard an ominous roar as he reached the portal. He dared not glance behind him. One of his brothers was sliced apart by a Bloodletter; it was only after he had entered the portal that David found bits and pieces of him sticking to his sweat-soaked garment on the back.

"No…" Madoka whispered, "he… Angron… is free again… I…"

"Go! Go! Go!" Homura shoved David through the portal with a push before she entered, but not before she simultaneously tore a dozen daemons apart. Sayaka's sword cut into one final Chaos Dreadnought and lopped off its leg before her retreat, in the process of which one of her arms was burned cleanly off of her shoulder by a lascannon.

As soon as Madoka entered the portal, however, her barrier that surrounded the planet disappeared. Shots from the Chaos fleet lit the planet ablaze as the crust cracked and buckled under the unrelenting punishment it took.

"C'mon! C'mon!" Hitomi was the last person through the portal. It flickered off as soon as she went through to the other side. The shot from the Planet Killer was the final _coup de grace_. The planet's crust violently ripped apart as magma boiled and splashed everywhere. Warp portals opened across the planet's surface as whatever Chaos force that could retreat did so.

The planet met its end in a spectacular explosion of magma, boiling ocean water, and chunks of crust being flung into space. Some of these chunks crushed and destroyed ships, but the majority of Abaddon's fleet entered the Warp before it could decimate the rest.

And all that remained of Madoka's home—a planet that once sustained over five billion people—was a belt of gradually cooling rock.


	20. XIX: The Black Library

**XIX: The Black Library**

Madoka tumbled through the portal and almost gave a strangely shaped vehicle a head butt. Behind her, a tumor of similar grey energy pulsed lightly as if it had a heartbeat. That was where they entered the Webway; what used to be a portal turned into a large cancerous "growth" not long after she barged into the artificial dimension.

The Webway swirled around the small crowd of human visitors. Grey wisps of unnatural energy around them provided what little illumination there was in the pitch blackness of twisted space. It was a wonder that they were all standing on somewhat solid ground, as whatever was holding them up under their feet was indistinguishable from the darkness around them. There was no sense of direction, orientation, or even time. The threads of grey energy that illuminated the space grew in every direction and wavered like burning fire, yet they were out of reach. This made some people squeamish; others simply vomited even though they were battered, hungry, and frightened.

They were frightened for good reason: they were being surrounded by a veritable army of aliens not dissimilar from the Far Seer and their vehicles. Madoka assumed that they were her kin, or even the remainder of her army yet to make through the original portal.

She quickly stood up and surveyed her surroundings. There were three large hovercrafts, each having a turret with a large purple crystal at the end of the barrel. Trios of similarly-sized vehicles held their ground to her flanks; Madoka could see that those were based on the same chassis as the large hovercrafts but with less powerful weapons. Smaller vehicles scattered between the larger ones, some slightly bigger than the largest motorcycle Madoka had seen, others slightly smaller than a compact sedan and all of them hovering like the larger vehicles.

"Fire Prisms, Falcon Transports and jet bikes," He identified them for her, "The Far Seer wanted to bring a highly mobile mechanized infantry force, as is the norm for their combat doctrine."

"Should we be concerned?"

"Always be concerned regarding the Eldar. They are duplicitous creatures."

"They helped us escape the…" Madoka paused. "They helped us escape!"

"They are not altruistic. Their actions only serve to advance their agenda. In the ten thousand years of dealing with them, they had never once stood to gain nothing from their actions."

"Is that because they're selfish, or is that because you haven't made a serious attempt at talking with them?" Madoka snapped at Him psychically as she stood between the vehicles and the group of frightened civilians. Homura, Hitomi, Kyouko and Sayaka stood by her side while the wounded were looked after. The Far Seer and the Pathfinder were nowhere to be seen.

"Both," He replied after a long pause. The vehicles trained their weapons at Madoka, and a small bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. The weapons were not capable of harming her or her people, but she was not worried about them. The more pressing question would be what the intentions of the Eldar were.

"Stand down." Out came a commanding telepathic presence and the hovering vehicles visibly lowered as if they were powered down. Dozens, if not scores, of warriors streamed out from the shadows, forming a veritable army in bright Technicolor.

Madoka could feel Homura tense and her power flare. Laying a hand on Homura's hand, she quietly gripped it for her to calm down. The telepathic command was issued by the Far Seer, she could tell, and there was no hostility in that command.

"Far Seer," she greeted the alien woman again as Kirahla came out of the shadows. Azrael stood behind his leader, his rifle slung on his back, but he was not alone; a handful of similarly shrouded aliens with similar-looking rifles stood behind him. Madoka could only speculate that they were of similar occupation and skill as the Pathfinder.

"Kaname Madoka of the Imperium," the Far Seer took off her helmet and let her long, silver hair flow down her back like a waterfall. "I wish the circumstances were better. We wish to assist you in your ascension to the leader of the _mon-keigh_ as you intend to do."

"What are you plotting?" His voice boomed into everyone's mind and the Eldar force seemed startled.

"Such suspicion. We merely wish to assist your efforts, for it is to our mutual benefit," the Far Seer strained a smile. Power leaked from Madoka like water pouring from a mesh. It made everyone around her—especially the Eldar—nervous: some of them fidgeted with their weapons. "We can provide food and shelter for your people in our Craftworld while you pursue your goal. We ask only that you return to our Craftworld and retrieve them once you succeed."

"Such altruistic philanthropy is not characteristic of your species," He stopped Madoka's response before she could utter a single word. She growled with a scowl, but made no attempt to interrupt the conversation. "You are seeking to gain our favor by doing us a service. Or, perhaps, you are planning to ransom us with the lives of our people?"

The Far Seer smiled, as if that statement was expected: "I am certain that whatever course of action you take, it would be perilous even for you, Kaname Madoka, as you are currently the most wanted target of the Great Enemy in the entire universe. In that case, it is better to entrust your people to a third party that would protect and feed them, than to plunge them into danger by merely being around you."

"Very well," He sighed, recognizing that the Far Seer's analysis was sound. "They shall not reduce in number, even by one, and they shall be physically healthy and mentally stable. Only if you do all of those, will you earn your people a seat at the negotiating table. These terms are not negotiable. Are we understood?"

"It has been a pleasure dealing with you, Kaname Madoka of the Imperium," the Far Seer smiled and extended a hand, which Madoka took rather eagerly.

"Allow me to say my goodbyes, and then we'd be on our way," Madoka nodded with a firm handshake with the Far Seer. The alien's hand was armored, but Madoka could feel the warmth of life through it.

"Very well, but be swift. Our enemies are on the prowl even in this dimension, and we cannot afford to waste any time."

Madoka turned around to address the group of refugees and realized how lucky they were to escape with most of their lives intact. It mattered not what they did before the entire incident; each of them looked like beggars on the street. Their clothes were little more than dirtied rags, and most of them sustained some injury in one form or another: scratches, bruises and scrapes abound, but at least none of them were life threatening.

"I'm sorry, everyone… but I will have to leave you for a while," she said with a strained smile. "You'll be safe and sound in their hands."

"Madoka," Junko whispered to her daughter, standing right in front of her.

"Mom…" She breathed and looked into Junko's eyes. With the changes to her body, she was already as tall as her mother. "Mom, can I ask you a favor? Can you please take care of these people for me?"

"I'm going with you," Junko said to Madoka's surprise. "I don't care how dangerous it is. You need support and care, and I'm not going to back down this time. I'm not afraid."

Madoka was silent for a little bit. She averted her eyes from Junko, glancing back at Homura who stood behind her and slightly to her left before giving her mother an answer: "But I am, mom… I want you and dad and Tatsuya to be safe. I want all of you to be happy, so… you can't follow me… not this time…"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. The refugees around them watched as the two woman—one their savior, the other her progenitor—faced each other, invisible emotions boiling and churning inside them.

"… Okay," Junko finally responded, looking down at Madoka's feet. She took a small step forward, and wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Come back soon, okay? We'll be waiting for you, wherever we are."

"… Yes… Yes, mom…" Madoka returned the embrace and finally broke down. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she descended into a sobbing mess in her mother's arms.

"We need to get moving," He interrupted as Madoka's weeping settled down somewhat. "The Enemy will not rest until we are all dead. We must move and strike swiftly before they can consolidate their forces and render our efforts null."

"… He's right, Madoka," Junko released her arms and gently removed Madoka from the hug. "Your dad and I will take care of everything else. Go."

"… Thanks, Mom." Madoka hastily wiped her tears from her cheeks and turned to the Far Seer: "Take care of these people for me, okay? I'll be back soon."

"We will." The Far Seer smiled and nodded to Madoka's satisfaction.

She then turned to Homura and the Magical Girls. Although Kyouko and Hitomi had blood caked on their clothes, they both beamed Madoka an understanding smile. Neither Sayaka nor Homura ever left Madoka's side; Madoka knew that both of them were determined to follow her to the bitter end. The Inquisitor and what remained of the 444th stood up and stood beside her. There was no need for words; all her companions were ready.

Madoka then found Azrael with her eyes and her mind. "Miss Mami, I will be on my way," she said telepathically, cracking a smile on her tear-stained face.

"I'll make sure these people are safe. Come back soon, Madoka," Mami responded in a revelation that seemed to startle some of the Eldar, "I'll prepare cake and tea for you when you get back."

"Let us depart," He boomed, and Madoka started walking away from the crowd of refugees. Her companions followed her; soon the Eldar army and the group of people disappeared into the void behind her.

"We will need to talk about how we can work together better," Madoka grunted quietly to Him as they walked.

"All in due time, my child," He smiled, "All in due time."

* * *

><p>Lord Castellan Ursarkar E. Creed sighed heavily as he settled into his command post on Luna. Due to his valiant defense of Cadia against daunting odds during the most recent Black Crusade, he had been chosen for this task, but he was not the least bit happy about it.<p>

Battlefleet Solar had been recalled. Battlefleet Gothic, Agripnaa and Armageddon were on their way to the Sol Sector. All available Space Marine chapters—even those on crusades of penance—were summoned. All elements of Ordo Malleus and Ordo Hereticus had been recalled. Every order of the Adeptus Sororitas were marshaled. The Assassinatorum temples were fully mobilized. Even the immense Explorator fleets of the Mechanicum had been ordered to return to Mars. But the Lord Castellan still feared that it may not be enough.

There was a Warp Storm brewing in the Asteroid Belt between Mars and Terra. From this festering wound of the Materium, unholy nightmares would emerge and devour the seat of the Imperium.

The Emperor prevented any major incursions into the Sol Sector for as long as He had been interred on the Golden Throne, but it seemed that even He could not maintain the ward much longer. The Lord Castellan suspected that such a terrible failure of the ward was related to the brief outage of the Astronomican a small while ago, but he could only speculate like the rest of his command staff and even his colleagues in the Imperial Navy.

He rubbed his forehead and stood up. A short and stout man, he was glad that the 8th Cadian did not desert him during the Black Crusade, but he could not say the same about his hair. Folding his hands behind him, he strolled through a lavishly decorated but short hallway to the War Room, where most of his staff worked.

Everyone in the room snapped to attention as he entered. With a small wave of his hand he gestured them to continue working, and then he took out a box of cigars from his coat pocket. Quietly cutting off the end with a simple cigar cutter, he then lit the delicious tobacco treat and inhaled deeply, strolling to the front of the wall-sized hololith screen at the back of the post as he did so. The screen showed the force distribution of the Sol sector. The large violet circle sat right where the fledgling Warp Storm was like a sore on otherwise unblemished skin.

The Fabricator General had positioned what warships he had between the Warp Storm and Mars as due precaution, but Creed knew that the gesture had more meaning than simply military strategy. On Terra, nothing could be taken at face value, he had learned; the deceit and duplicity of these politicians would have earned them all a las bolt to the cranium on Cadia, but on Terra they were shielded by red tape as thick and durable as battleship armor.

Fundamental changes to the Imperium's political atmosphere was an almost insurmountable task. It was a decrepit empire too big to die quickly. Nothing short of the miraculous return of the Emperor would rejuvenate such a morbid beast, Creed was certain. Still, as long as He sat on the Golden Throne, Creed would perform his duty to Him and to His people with distinction and honor.

His cigar sizzled as he drew another deep breath. The flavor seeped into his nostrils and his lungs, giving him a jolt of pleasantness as he continue to stare at the large purple circle. The Fabricator General did not want to participate in Terra's defense. It was a tactically sound decision: without the Mechanicus' Explorator fleets, the Fabricator General had traditionally relied on the Imperium to provide defense for Mars. The simple possibility of Chaos ships streaming out of the nascent Warp Storm terrified the Fabricator General for good reason, and Creed could not assign blame to him at all.

Even though he had no authority over the Navy, the Mechanicus' defensive posture still presented an inconvenience for him in terms of logistics and supply. Though Terra was home to dozens of billions of humans, most of them were clerks in the Administratum or the Ministorum. Unlike Cadia, Terra itself had little room for ammunition storage or even war machines, relying primarily on the assumption that any invader would have to punch through all the defenses in Segmentum Solar as well as annihilate Luna and Mars before it could establish a foothold on Terra. In the face of a nascent Warp Storm within spitting distance of the Emperor, such an assumption would be fatal.

Luckily the defense readiness of Luna was much better. Home to massive caverns full of ammunition, heavy weapons and wargear, Luna itself was a nigh-impenetrable fortress bristling with anti-ship lance batteries and Nova cannons. As long as Luna was in orbit, the enemy would not be able to establish a foothold on Terra. However, once they do breach Luna—as Creed was certain they would if given enough time—the defense on Terra would rely on the supply line between it and Mars.

Battlefleet Solar stood by between the Warp Storm and Terra. Still recovering from the horrendous losses it took from the 13th Black Crusade, the Battlefleet nonetheless remained a serious threat to whoever that wanted to assault Terra. Still, without support, the fleet would not last long. The closest Battlefleet—Armageddon—was a couple of days out, but Astropathic contact with them was spotty at best. Whoever created this foul Warp Storm had to have been disrupting psychic communication from and to the system. Other Battlefleets were weeks, months, or even years out; they would never make it on time. Besides, the most strategic target the enemy had was the Astronomican; if it would fall, the Imperium would certainly fall apart.

The Lord Castellan flicked the butt of his cigar into a saucer-sized ashtray and took out another. He expected no reinforcements. There would most likely be bitter fighting against the Traitors and their foul minions on Luna like what happened on Cadia, and the space lane would most likely remain open due to the close proximity to Mars. Supply would not be a problem, even without the Astronomican.

Every inch of soil would be fertilized with the blood of heretics and martyrs. Every pebble on Luna would be pound to dust and scattered to the cosmos. Even the sand would be but glass when the fighting would finish.

It was as it should be.

The Lord Castellan smiled and sat down. His forces were marshaled, his defenses were ready, and his resolve was unshakable.

He awaited his opponent's next move.

* * *

><p>"We need to talk," Madoka said as her party advanced cautiously through the chaotic dimension. Although He had a general idea of where they were heading, without a detailed map it was easy to make mistakes on the way. Already they had run into several dead-ends: portals sealed with mystic runes, presumably by the Eldar and presumably for good reason.<p>

"What is on your mind, my child?" His voice rolled softly in her mind. Madoka had quite a bit of time to think about recent events ever since her "merge" with Him, and the only conclusion she had drawn was not to think about them in too much depth less she go insane.

"Why wouldn't you trust the Far Seer at first?"

"My experience and my observations led me to the conclusion that trusting an Eldar—indeed, trusting any xeno—would be most unwise. They have a tendency to backstab their allies for their own gain, but I suppose in this case my mistrust was misplaced."

"Why must you suspect the motive behind everything?"

"We must discern motivations before we judge actions. Good people can and will do bad things to achieve a noble goal, and sometimes bad people will commit good deeds because such acts further advance their agenda."

"Is that how you justified the Imperium's actions? Is that how you justified your alienation and subsequent murder and exile of your sons?"

"I justify nothing," He scowled, "and we are not bringing my sons into the discussion again. I have born the guilt of my decisions for ten millennia. You are not to lecture me further on the matter."

"I'm… I apologize," Madoka let out a sigh, "but that doesn't make my point invalid. You think that motivations justify actions, but murder is murder; it mattered not what you think you were doing, killing another person is always wrong."

"Your naïveté is… heartening, I suppose," He carefully chose his words, "but you will soon see how the real world works, and you will be discouraged. Then, you will see how my way of looking at things has merit. For now, my child, you lack experience in dealing with alien species and discerning their motivations, which would come with time and practice."

"Well, if you don't let me practice, how am I supposed to… wait, this is…?" Madoka was so absorbed into the conversation in her head that she ignored her surroundings. Only then did she notice the ruin around her.

It was the ruins of a massive city built inside the Webway, a mass grave of unknown creatures undisturbed for millennia. The walls and chambers of what had to have been buildings that would gleam in the light had long crumbled, leaving piles of material indistinguishable from the bleached bones of its occupants. The streets were paved with entire slabs of the same material in which the buildings were constructed; even those slabs had warped and cracked, some broken into pieces. The ancient mechanisms that corresponded to the circadian cycle of whatever occupants of the city still functioned, however, as the sun broke over the horizon of this ghostly plane, showering the entire city with its pale, jaundiced light.

Madoka tentatively stepped onto the main causeway that was as wide as 8-lane highways back home. The paving slab creaked so painfully that Madoka had to take her foot back and shield her ears.

"Wraithbone," He muttered. Madoka's companions formed a defensive perimeter around her, wary of any ambush that could occur even though the occupants of this city should be long dead.

"… This was an Eldar city?" Madoka was incredulous. Around her, the Wraithbone remains of the city seemed to moan and groan; some had their gleam return, and they sluggishly started restoring themselves to whatever shapes they used to be.

"The material is drinking the power that we emanate and restoring themselves. This must be the site of an incredibly ancient city; I am not aware of any massive Eldar construction inside the Webway other than Commorragh," He commented as Madoka glanced around, "so it must be a place they built before their Empire crumbled."

Carefully restraining her power, she stepped onto the causeway again. The slab let out a yelp of some sort, before its surface shifted into a beautifully patterned debossing of what seemed like nude goddesses playing in a stream; it seemed like the tiniest amount of psychic power was enough to repair it to its former glory. The next slab depicted a different scene, and the next; no two slabs were the same as far as Madoka observed.

"They… carved such intricate patterns into their paving stones," Madoka gasped as the group moved down the main causeway, "They must have a heck of a time driving on it."

"They have anti-grav technology. They cared not whether or not the road was flat, just that it was unobstructed." Madoka remembered the vehicles she saw earlier; since they had no contact with any solid ground and floated a foot above it, they would indeed not care about the debossed artwork on the causeway. She then laid a finger upon a half-broken column, and poured some power into it. Every shard of Wraithbone in the column's vicinity sprang to life with a burst of wails so loud that everyone had to shield their ears.

"This is… incredible…" What stood in front of her was a lavish building with life-like debossing decorating every inch of its outer wall. The windows were shaped with soft and plump curves; the entrance itself was shaped strangely in alien aesthetics and similarly curved. The inside of the structure was brought to life as well, utensils and furniture gluing themselves back together into their former glory. Saucers and cups rested on top of the embossed table; chairs and stools were delicately balanced, having intricate carvings on every inch of their construction. Machines that served food and drink were humming quietly, and soon they produced edible meals and drinkable liquids.

All of this was the result of Madoka injecting a miniscule fraction of her power into the building. Famished, the party sat down in the alien restaurant, and ate and drink their fill. The food was not completely pleasant to the human palate, but given their state, they could not care less about the taste.

Madoka required no food, but she ate anyway. None of the Magical Girls required any food, in fact; biological functions were no longer relevant when they completed their transformation, but they ate anyway like the humans. The Inquisitor and the Guardsmen were initially hesitant to consume what they claim to be "xeno corruption", but relented to their stomachs' growls when Madoka herself partook in the meal.

"The Eldar used to have a galactic empire like the Imperium today," He said as Madoka sat alone and quietly at the table. Elsewhere, Kyouko's gobbling was loud enough to draw complaints from Hitomi. "This must have been one of their cities."

"To achieve such technological advances, they must have been powerful," She mused as she turned to observe Homura, who stood behind her on guard: "Homura-chan, why don't you sit down as well?"

"We cannot all let down our guard, Madoka," came her reply. "Such a display of power is sure to attract enemies within this dimension. If everyone were focused on recuperating and our enemies ambush us, the result would be disastrous."

Madoka stood up and planted Homura in her seat much to the black-haired girl's shock: "It's my turn to keep watch. Eat up, Homura-chan, or you won't have the strength to protect all of us!"

"But…"

"What would you like to order, ma'am?" Playfully she stood by the table like a waitress.

"She does have a point, my child," He rumbled with a slight tinge of displeasure in His telepathic message, "and we do not have time to waste on such luxuries."

"Everyone's tired, so I thought it might be a good idea for us to take a break here and make up for lost time later. We can't exactly fight on empty stomachs and exhausted spirits," Madoka's smile grew wider as Homura's face became so flustered that it lit up in luminous crimson. With a small giggle she dashed to the food producer, retrieved a plate of what looked like a quarter of roasted poultry and delivered it to Homura. Observing that the black-haired Magical Girl literally buried her head in the food so that Madoka could not see her face, she turned her attention to the previous conversation: "So, how did their empire crumble?"

"'Just as Sodom and Gomorrah and the surrounding cities, which likewise indulged in sexual immorality and pursued unnatural desire, serve as an example by undergoing a punishment of eternal fire.'" He quoted, "They were punished with eternal fire."

"You know, there's something to be said about you quoting a book about yourself," Madoka smiled in amusement for a moment before she returned to her serious face, "so their decadence led to their fall?"

"Indeed. The cataclysmic event birthed Slaanesh the Prince of Pleasure over ten millennia ago," He muttered, "if it were not for their fall, I would have had a much harder time expanding the Imperium into the size that it is today, and humanity would, in all measures, be extinct."

"How did it all start?"

"They were a prosperous society. They had everything at their disposal. They needed not work, so they sought higher pleasures in life. Soon that pursuit turned into debauchery and hedonism. More and more heinous their deeds became, and more and more extreme their pursuit led them. And thus their empire was annihilated almost overnight, as it should be," He recalled. Madoka was disturbed by some of the mental images He showed her, images He extracted from the tomes He read before his internment.

"A utopia turned dystopia," Madoka muttered. The bright mood that she had when she teased Homura had by then completely disappeared. "… Those poor things, to have been through such misfortune and survive… We should help them."

"Why?" He was incredulous, "they would not blink to murder an entire planet of humans just to save a handful of their kind! They would direct a Tyranid fleet to a human world so that their own Craftworld would be spared!"

"But can you blame them?" She gazed out to the wastes beyond, "Can you blame them? Look at this. Look at what they have lost. For their prosperous empire to be annihilated in such short time, they must be on the edge of extinction! In order for them to survive, they had no choice but to commit these evil deeds, like how few choices you had!"

"Evil is evil. You said that. No matter how their intentions were, trading human lives for theirs is unacceptable."

"Yes, but how do we stop them from doing these things without becoming monsters ourselves? How do we stop them from making these choices without making these choices ourselves? Have you ever thought of that? They are not beyond salvation! There's still _hope_ for them! So why shouldn't we help them?"

"… Perhaps, but my child, you are taking on a much larger mantle than what I intended," He sighed in resignation. "Considering their double-faced treachery and their pride, it would be no easy task. Much strife would follow, both in the Imperium and between the Eldar Craftworlds. I am not certain that you would be ready for that."

"The child must one day surpass the parent," She smiled with a sigh. "It is the parent's job to prepare the child for her coming responsibilities, is it not?"

"Cheeky girl you have become," both of them spontaneously chuckled a bit, and then He continued, "In any case, if you have not noticed, you are leaking power."

"Yeah, I noticed that much when I stepped on that paving slab; and yet here we are, heading back to Terra to acquire even more power," Madoka sighed as she took a seat opposite to Homura. Resting her elbows on the table, she then rested her chin on her hands and observed Homura while keeping an eye still on the entrance, "How do I contain all of it, and how can I make use of all of it?"

"You need conditioning and meditation, both of which needed time, and…"

"Time is something we sorely need right now," Madoka rolled her eyes. "I knew it. What are the possible consequences if we don't deal with this?"

"Well, everyone is apprehensive around you because of that power, and you will not be able to use that power to its full potential because it is constantly leaking out of you."

"So, in other words, I'm scaring the living daylight out of everyone and I'm kind of weak? I thought the Inquisitor and your Guardsmen were just deferent to… to my status," Madoka glanced around nervously. Homura was still dodging her eyes, and the rest of the party was far enough away from her that she knew it was the case.

"That is one way of putting the concept, yes. Their deference, compounded with the power you leak, was enough to render them completely obedient to your will." Madoka groaned silently when she heard His answer. She never wanted anyone to be completely obedient to anyone else. Certainly, there must exist a certain hierarchy amongst humans to ensure order, but without effective opposition, decisions would never be questioned. The decision-makers, therefore, would drink of and be inebriated by this power, and then they would be corrupt. Then, it was even more imperative for her to actually approach her friends and actively ask for advice.

Gazing once again at the Wraithbone wasteland outside, she asked: "Do you think… that if I created a utopia for humanity, we would suffer the same fate as the Eldar?"

There was a long silence: "If we lacked a purpose, yes."

"How can you be sure?"

"I am not, for I have yet to succeed in creating a utopia."

"… Fair enough," Madoka nodded as she spun around. Homura had already finished her meal, but she was no longer in her seat. Instead, Madoka found the black-haired girl staring at the doorway, where a strange shape stood. The rest of the party were also on alert; the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen all drew their weapons and trained them on the newcomer.

The creature was a lithe humanoid, slightly taller than Madoka herself while wearing a pair of heeled thigh-high boots. She was clearly female from the shape of her body, but she wore a hood and a mask made from what seemed to be white jade. The mask had red eye slits and ruby-colored lips, all of them curving into an eerie smile. Her colorful clothing was similar to that of a beggar on the street, yet she emitted an aura of detached coldness around her. On her back, a large staff glinted with pale metallic light as the artificial sun's rays struck it. On her hip, a small pistol rested in a well-crafted leather holster.

"Who are you?" Madoka swiftly moved to greet the newcomer, standing between her party's line of fire and her guest. That way, a fire fight would not accidentally occur and she could protect both her guest and her group.

"A soulless songstress, in search for answers," she responded, and Madoka somehow felt a stabbing pain strike her head with every word the strange woman uttered, each strong enough to make her cringe slightly.

"Madoka, she's givin' me da willies…" Kyouko warned with a slightly shaken voice. If her visitor promoted pain in Madoka, then it was sure to make Kyouko and the rest of the Magical Girls nervous. Somehow, Sayaka was nowhere close to as discomforting as the visitor when she was not transformed.

"Do you… have a name?" She asked while beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. Her ears buzzed a little, but she remained calm; her companions would surely try to kill this woman if they found out that she was somehow hurting her, and the last thing Madoka wanted to see was a bar brawl.

"One such as I am nameless," her speech pattern was a little strange to Madoka. It was as if the creature was reciting some poem or some play, "and you travel with one like us."

Madoka could almost see the stranger's eyes tracing a line toward Sayaka. The stabbing pain did not subside, but it did feel somewhat softer: "Can you tell us what you want?"

"The barren garden is fertile once more," she sang, "and the chosen one must follow and explore."

"The chosen?" Madoka assumed that "the barren garden" meant the wasteland around them. After all, the only thing that could possibly bring such a strange person to her would be her restoration of this restaurant.

"She is firm yet feeble, supple yet harsh; she is wise yet foolish, gentle yet brash," the masked person continued, her voice growing wispy. Her mask somehow shifted and changed expressions as she danced lithely in the doorway, stroking Madoka's face lovingly with her long, gloved fingers, "She seeks knowledge, yet she knows not how. Guidance is needed, and guide we shall."

"You're leading me somewhere?"

"Come, and we shall be away; to the shrouded world, where secrets lay," with a psychedelic whirl she danced out the door, and Madoka followed.

"Where are you going?"

"The Black Library," He answered for her with a smile. "Perhaps we can resolve the power leakage problem, after all."

* * *

><p>Although the scenery presented to David was breathtaking, he never took his hand off of his autopistol for a single moment. The starry dome under which the party travelled felt unnatural for him because the stars were out of their usual alignment, and the pale white strip of the Milky Way appeared completely different.<p>

Still, that was not his primary concern. A pair of Eldar Titans stood guard in front of a small ebony arch. They were taller than the buildings on Cadia, and though they did not bristle with weapons like the Mechanicus' god-machines, David knew that if they wanted they could wipe out the entire group with ease.

In front of the Titans, a line of guards stood, each dressed in brightly colored armor that seemed almost theatrical. For some reason other than knowing the overwhelming difference in firepower between the Xenos and the humans, David felt it difficult to raise even a finger against them; knowing these treacherous Xenos, he was certain that they had played some sort of mind trick on him. He threw a sideway glance at Lady Akemi. She remained steadfast behind the Empress, but she did not draw any weapons or adorn her usual combat attire; in fact, none of the Empress' companions did.

The Xeno standing on the other side of the Empress made him even queasier. The Eldar was dressed in the same attire as the guards, and it too wore a mask. If it were up to him he would have shot the Xeno repeatedly before it even lifted a finger at him, but somehow something restrained him so that he could not lift a finger against it.

David could not fathom why the Empress trusted the strangely-dressed and even stranger-mannered Xeno. The Inquisitor quivered with excitement when the Empress mentioned the Black Library to the party, but David did not care at all about the importance of the place. This entire place smelled like a trap to him, and he was not one to go down quietly.

The Empress took a step forward, and the guards yielded for her. Lady Akemi and the Empress' other companions followed, the five of them forming a staggered letter "V" with the Empress at the tip. Their footsteps clattered against the deafening silence and made David's ears ring.

The guards and the Xeno Titans yielded to the Empress and her Magical Girls. They bowed reverently as the five of them passed their defensive lines and approached the small archway that marked the entrance to said Black Library. The Inquisitor attempted to follow, but the strangely-dressed Xeno that accompanied them since their rest at the ruined city barred him with one arm.

"Allow me entry, Xeno, or you are going to wish you had," the Inquisitor snarled a threat, but it only drew a long mocking cackle from her.

"Worthy of entry you are not, and prove your worth you cannot," the creature sang, and even David could feel blinding, splitting heat forcing its way into his head with her every word. The Harlequin Solitaire intentionally spiked her power: her sentence sent the Inquisitor tumbling onto the ground. David wanted to draw his autopistol and shoot the creature to stop the Inquisitor's suffering, but his muscles failed to comply. There was a psychic compulsion against raising his arm against her, he was sure; one of the Xenos' foul tricks, most likely.

"We are going to be okay," the Empress' voice rang in their minds. David could see that, in the distance, she turned around to spare a glance at them. "Please be patient for a while. We'll be back soon."

With that, the Empress and her party disappeared into the archway, leaving the Inquisitor, David and his comrades outside. The Xeno that caused the Inquisitor pain had already disappeared out of view, and the line of guards had reformed, barring them entry into this mysterious Black Library.

"My Lord," David bent down to examine Kane, "are you all right?"

"I'll… I'll be fine. Damn these Xenos," the Inquisitor grunted, his mechanical exoskeleton groaning as he sat up. "A fount of knowledge so close, and yet it remains out of my reach!"

"My Lord, pardon me for my ignorance, but what is the importance of the Black Library?"

"It is the ultimate repository of knowledge against the Great Enemy," the Inquisitor grumbled, "it is so close to me, and yet it is so far away. Damn these Xenos!"

"My Lord, I am not comfortable with the… casual attitude taken to approach these Xenos. For all we know, they are always prepared to stab us in the back, and given that we're unarmed…" David glanced at his trusted autopistol in his hand. Even though a slug from it can kill a man, in the face of the threats against which he was accustomed to fight it may as well be useless.

"I understand, Guardsman," the Inquisitor grunted as David's comrades sat around him, "and neither do I. But we are weak, and we are trekking through their territory. We also have common goals and interests; therefore, I do not see the harm in this temporary alliance of convenience."

"We have the Empress on our side! Why don't we just annihilate them?" David turned around. Private Simon Schuster was one of the more fanatical people amongst the survivors. Of course, the most fanatical of the soldiers had already given their lives for the Empress, but comparatively Simon was more zealous in his belief of human superiority.

"It is the Empress' decision not to annihilate the Xenos where they stood," the Inquisitor snapped. "And it is not your place to question her, Guardsman. One more word on this matter, and I shall have no choice but to execute you for your heresy."

Simon grumbled an acknowledgement. There was a certain finality in the Inquisitor's words, and David decided to mute himself lest his concerns earn an undeserved bullet between the brows: "But, my Lord, to travel to the Golden Throne itself through this strange dimension, do you not think that it would be folly with our current forces?"

"Like Simon has said, 'we have the Empress on our side,'" the Inquisitor let out a seldom-seen smile and twisted the cap off of his water canteen. "Trust in the Empress, Guardsmen, and she shall deliver us from evil."

"Yes, my Lord," David muttered and slid his blood-stained Primer out of his pocket. He had no lasgun to maintain, but perhaps by reviewing that little book he could calm his nerves a little.

* * *

><p>Madoka was amazed: "This is…?"<p>

It seemed that she had stepped back into her courtyard once she entered the portal. But this could not be; her house—along with the planet itself—had already been destroyed!

"A form of illusion. It seems that whoever is in control of the place wishes to test us," He rumbled, and though Madoka concurred, the pleasant feeling of the spring wind ruffling her dress and her hair was undeniable.

"Welcome home, Madoka."

Her eyes widened at the person greeting her at the door of her house. Her mother wore a set of soft pajamas and fluffy slippers instead of her regular business suit and heels; her smile could not help but send warmth rippling into Madoka's heart.

"Mom…" She muttered, clutching her hands in front of her bosom, "I'm home, Mom."

"Be careful, my child. Remember, your mother is en route to an Eldar Craftworld," He warned as Madoka eagerly strode toward her mother. "Neither your mother nor this scenery is real."

The statement was enough to make Madoka stop in her tracks. She was but an arm's reach from Junko when she stopped and remembered: "… Who are you?"

Junko—or, whatever creature that took the form of Madoka's mother—cracked a sly smile and sidestepped in invitation: "Enter, and let us talk."

Madoka glanced through the entrance; the inside of the house was too dark for her to identify any objects. She quietly glanced back at Junko, but she could not read her at all.

"This could be a trap, my child," He cautioned.

"Even if it is a trap, do you see any other options?"

"We could subdue whatever creature this is and ask it questions."

"I see you're in a talking mood," she mocked. Madoka was not aware that an ethereal soul could squirm, and though it was more than a little petty, the thought of Him squirming at her word was delightful. "As long as they're in a talking mood too, can we lay off the torture and domination a little?"

"Very well. But be on your guard; we do not know what to expect in there," He resigned, and Madoka took a step into the house. The interior, it turned out, was identical with what she remembered. Junko closed the door and swiftly overtook Madoka as she strode briskly toward the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue.

"Care to share a drink?" Junko gestured as she gingerly placed the bottle and two lowball glasses on the dinner table.

"I'm… still under age, but you should know that," Madoka responded meekly. Junko let out a chuckle and scooped a bucket of ice from the ice maker, before sitting down opposite to Madoka and pouring herself a glass of whiskey over some ice.

"Considering the responsibilities you have shouldered, a drink should be the least of your concerns, Kaname Madoka," the creature taking Junko's shape chuckled and took a sip.

"Why did you take the shape of my mother?" Madoka slipped out of the seat and walked to the fridge, before pulling out a carton of orange juice. "I know this is the Black Library. Why did you choose to project this illusion of my house?"

"I thought a familiar setting and a familiar face would help you relax," the creature maintained her smile and observed Madoka pour herself a glass of orange juice. "You have introduced shattering changes to the universe, Kaname Madoka."

"You know, it doesn't sound as funny from my end." Both of them took a sip from their drinks, and Madoka leaned forward. "What's your goal here?"

"You have a perilous road ahead of you, Kaname Madoka," the creature chuckled and took another sip, "And though your heart is noble, I am afraid that with your current mindset you will only bring more tragedy to your people."

"Tragedy? What do you mean?"

"Sentient beings define themselves through their struggles, Kaname Madoka," she paused and letting her words sink into Madoka's understanding for a little before continuing, "without struggles, life becomes a torturous ordeal."

"That doesn't make sense," Madoka blurted. She focused her eyes on Junko's face, but Junko simply maintained the smile and drained her glass of whiskey. "Struggles bring suffering, and no one deserves to suffer."

"That is a flawed line of reasoning, Kaname Madoka," Junko twisted the cap off of the whiskey bottle and casually tossed the cap aside. After she poured herself a new glass, she then forcibly reached over the table and filled Madoka's half-glass of orange juice with alcohol.

"Hey! I told you I am under age!"

"Alcohol would do you some good, Kaname Madoka. It helps you relax, and you have plenty of trials ahead of you," Junko set the bottle down and rested her elbows on the table. Her eyes never left Madoka's, and Madoka felt her very soul being peeled open by those violet eyes of hers, "Your Imperium is under siege from all sides. The threat of Chaos and the Tyranids are just two of them."

"… There are more?" Madoka's jaw almost fell onto the table.

"Indeed, Kaname Madoka; these two are among the most significant threats, but these other ones are no less intimidating," Junko gestured and a small stack of picture frames appeared on the table out of nowhere, much to Madoka's surprise.

"For example, the Necrons," she pulled a frame from the stack and slid it across the smooth glass surface of the table to Madoka. "They sleep on countless planets they call 'Tomb Worlds'. Their only goal is to exterminate all life."

Madoka took up the picture frame and saw the image inside it move. Somehow, mere contact with the frame was also enough to project a psychic image into her head, complete with all senses for a truly immersive experience. A brief thought in her head wished that movies were this real, but she banished that thought as quickly as it appeared, for the subject matter at hand was too gruesome.

Rows upon rows of black skeletal robots marched across a large plain. They held tubes with cackling green energy, menacing enough to strike chills into Madoka's spine. Behind them, large pyramidal vehicles dotted the landscape; they had a single large crystal at their apices, from which the same energy as those in the tubes arced. The entire legion of robots with the pyramids moved ponderously slowly, but the slow speed only served to frighten Madoka even more.

She glanced to the other side of the battlefield and found a force of humans in trenches. They have dug in deep, and they were poised to hold the line against the unending tide of robotic minions. Artillery thundered and landed within the ranks of robots, and with each shell that landed some robots fell. Some of these reassembled themselves with crackles of energy, while others were whisked away in a flash of emerald light.

But the advance of the robots did not stop. No, they did not even slow when the first line of Guardsmen opened fire against them. Instead, the march of these machines became louder and louder until the defenders were within range of the tubes in their hands.

The following scene was too graphic for Madoka to stomach. The robots unleashed a storm of green lightning. Guardsmen who were touched by a bolt of energy were literally flayed alive: their skin peeled off of their flesh and they writhed in agony. The robots continued to fire at the defenders; tank armor were stripped off layer by layer, and not even fortifications stopped their advance. More horrible were the pyramids' attacks. With a loud boom, a bolt of energy arced from the crystal at the top of a pyramid and struck a bunker in a brilliant flash of emerald. When the chaotic whirlwind subsided, all that remained of the bunker was a blackened crater and… and bones.

Madoka quickly released the grip on the picture frame and panted. The scene was too bloody, too vivid for her to stand. It called up unpleasant memories for her, as well; though the bloodshed during the evacuation was not this bad, she had seen some pretty disturbing sights and they were all coming back to her: "These… are the Necrons?"

"Indeed, and they're but one threat," Junko smiled and sipped her drink, "Would you like some whiskey?"

That glass of spiked orange juice suddenly seemed a lot more appealing.

* * *

><p>Kyouko found herself sitting on top of the altar inside the ruined church with which she was intimately familiar. It was there that her father hanged himself. It was there that he murdered her mother and sister.<p>

She spat. The church—like the planet on which it resided—should have already been destroyed. There was little doubt in her mind that this was an illusion, a trick on her mind. Perhaps whoever resided in the Black Library intended to test her resolve, but what would be the purpose of that?

Kyouko quietly traced the outline of the tattered altar. The wood felt warm to the touch, yet the breeze howling through the church sent shudders throughout her body. Leaves and loose cobwebs rode the wind. If it were an illusion, it was a well-crafted one, Kyouko thought.

Pages from decayed holy books littered the ground. Kyouko disdainfully regarded these loose sheets as they too were carried up into the air by the breeze, twisting into a tiny twister of jaundiced paper. To her, they contained nothing but poison, words that intoxicated the gullible masses and weakened their resolve.

She used to believe in them, Kyouko sighed. These words that taught her altruism and to sacrifice herself for her family and her love were once held sacred in her heart. She truly thought she was doing the right thing, but she suffered because of them. Sayaka, too, suffered because of them. If she would just live life for herself and not for that damned boy…

"And yet you cling to her as if she were your sole purpose in life," chimed a voice. It snapped Kyouko out of her thoughts; she directed her eyes toward the source of the voice. A frail figure stood at the entrance to the tattered chapel, and she slowly approached the altar.

"Sayaka…" Kyouko breathed upon seeing Sayaka dressed in her school uniform, but she immediately realized that something was amiss. Those azure eyes of hers sparkled with light, the look in them vivid and sharp; ever since she woke up, Sayaka's eyes had been dead like a zombie.

"You claim to live for yourself, and yet you stick with the group of people you met," Sayaka said, quietly walking up the aisle leading to the altar. "None of them lived for themselves; yet you tolerate them and you cooperate with them. Why is that, Sakura Kyouko?"

Kyouko searched for words to refute the claim, but she found none because the statement was true. None of them was selfish; all of them sacrificed themselves for someone else. Hitomi became a Magical Girl for Sayaka. Homura lived and breathed on Madoka's whim. Madoka was determined to save everyone with her power. And Sayaka…

Kyouko sighed: "They ain't bad company."

"You are fighting for them, however; putting your life on the line is hardly worth their companionship, one should think," Sayaka giggled as she stood inches from Kyouko, their faces close enough that Kyouko could feel her breaths. Panicking, Kyouko staggered backwards and almost fell off of the altar. With a clumsy flip, she barely maintained her balance and remained at arm's length from Sayaka.

"That… that ain't none of yer business!" Kyouko scowled and looked for something to eat in vain. Her stomach growled again as her face practically glowed with heat: "Who are ya, anyway? Why da hell didja take her form? And why didja put me in dis damned church of all places?"

"I thought a familiar setting and a familiar face would help you relax," Sayaka giggled once again at Kyouko's embarrassment. "This church holds some symbolic significance for you, does it not, Sakura Kyouko?"

"I ain't gonna have nothin' to do with dis damned place no more," Kyouko protested.

"In other words, you are running away." Sayaka's smile never faded from her. Her words, however, stabbed straight into Kyouko's heart. "You brought Miki Sayaka here and you told her of your history. You thought that your story would frighten her into conforming to your way of thinking, your way of life. You thought that she would run away from her ideals like you have."

"Shaddap!" Kyouko howled, transforming into her Magical Girl outfit, "Whatcha know 'bout me, huh!? HUH!?"

"I know all, Sakura Kyouko." Sayaka did not blink even when Kyouko thrust her spear at Sayaka's eyes. "I know how you naively thought your sob story would scare her away from her train of thought. I know how you foolishly expected Sayaka to go along with your script. And though events did not at all turn out the way you expected, though her very status brings pain and grief to your heart, you still remained by her side.

"Because you love her, Sakura Kyouko."

Kyouko's hands shivered as her breathing quickened. She once again searched for words to refute her statement, but it seemed that to whatever creature that took the shape of Sayaka she was as transparent as plastic cling wrap and as hollow as an inflated balloon: "I… I'm not! Stop talking this nonsense!"

"You are attracted to her because she is what you are not," Sayaka continued while maintaining a smile, her eyes seemingly staring deep into Kyouko's soul. "She is not so easily discouraged by your story; in fact, you know that she would not be deterred by anything. The fire of her selflessness burned so brightly that it attracted you like a moth at night. You did not expect her sacrifice to end badly, but when it did, you cannot help but feel responsible since you tried but failed to divert her from this course. Am I wrong, Sakura Kyouko?"

No, Kyouko swallowed. Whatever this creature was, it was exactly right, and this revelation made her uneasy. Never mind Kyouko's disposition toward Sayaka; if this creature could read her mind so easily, then she would constitute no threat to it: "… Who _are_ you?"

"Relax, Sakura Kyouko," the creature chuckled and Kyouko shuddered. Even its giggles were like Sayaka's: to Kyouko, they sounded like the crystal chimes of silver bells. "I mean no harm to either you or your companions."

"Why are you doing this to us?"

"Before you embark on the greatest journey in the galaxy, you must know yourself, Sakura Kyouko," the creature maintained her knowing smile, "your significance in the cosmic order is preordained, as are your companions'. Know your motivations behind your actions. Resolve your concerns regarding your companions. Your future depends on your companions, and theirs on you."

Kyouko did not know how to respond. The chair on which she sat creaked painfully as she slumped, her breaths light and shallow.

"… I helped turn her into that monster," she finally breathed without knowing exactly why she said what she said. The creature sat upon the decayed altar and listened. "I… I guess I was trying to scare her away from her fate, but what choice did I have? She would never have listened to reason; not from me, anyway. I tried to appeal to her emotions so that she could understand where I'm coming from, but that didn't work. And now, she can't feel anything because of my failure."

"You did what you have to do, and you did all you can," it said with a small comforting smile, "I suppose that you should be happy now that Miki Sayaka cannot feel any emotions at all; at the very least, she does not hate you."

But Kyouko was on the verge of tears: "That's the problem, isn't it? I… I want to be friends with her. I want to see her smile. I want her to… I want her to like me. What's the point of saving her if she's reduced to a damned husk!?"

"Even the coldest ice has to melt one day." That comforting smile remained on its face as it slipped off the altar. With a small step, the creature with Sayaka's shape approached Kyouko and stroked her flaming red hair, "though she has no affection to give, the next best thing may be to fight by her side, and never to lose her."

"What good does it do?" Kyouko sniffled, her spear lying uselessly on the floor, "She'll never like me. She'll never hate me. I'd rather she hate me than this… this cold indifference!"

"Love requires no reciprocation, Sakura Kyouko," it gently reminded her, its hand petting Kyouko's head, "if you truly love her, you will stand by her till the end, will you not?"

Kyouko nodded, but she hesitated a little: "… but… but this pain… will it ever go away?"

"Unfortunately, it will not," it said with a sad smile. "It is the price of your bond, Sakura Kyouko. It reminds you of past lessons learned, and it reminds you just how precious this bond between you two is."

"Will she ever understand what I'm doing and why I'm doing it?"

"That, Sakura Kyouko, depends on your efforts." It planted a light, playful kiss on Kyouko's forehead. The mere act of contact startled the redhead; she tried to back away, but the leg of the decaying chair gave and threw her onto her bum.

"What the hell did you do that for!?" Kyouko protested, her face glowing beet red.

"Just to tease you, of course," it giggled. "Perhaps one day, she herself will do this to you."

Kyouko really, really wanted to punch the alien creature in the face.

* * *

><p>The smell of the spiked orange juice made Madoka decide that it was not exactly the brightest of ideas to inebriate herself while she was engaged in a serious conversation with an alien who was taking on the appearance of her mother. Shaking her head, she slipped off of her seat and found a new glass in the cabinet. Pouring herself another glass of orange juice, she hastily drained half of it before returning to her seat.<p>

"Aw," Junko seemingly pouted, but that smile did not fade, "I was hoping you would drink a little and relax."

"I can't relax when someone's taking the shape of my mother, you know," Madoka responded with a gulp of juice, "especially when I have no idea what you want and what you're trying to do."

"Does this make you feel uncomfortable?" The creature's smile turned into a mock, "Perhaps you should get used to it; this attachment to shapes and appearances will one day kill you."

"Maybe, but friends don't make friends nervous," Madoka countered, "If you really want to be my friend, would you mind changing into another shape?"

"Very well," "Junko" scoffed, and in front of Madoka's very eyes her figure started to twist. The short, crisp violet hair started to lengthen into black, braided tails. Her face shifted to a younger visage, with black eyes and a conjured pair of spectacles with a red frame. Her clothes also morphed from pajamas into Madoka's school uniform. Much to Madoka's shock, the creature changed her shape into who seemed like Homura, but she never remembered Homura with twin braided tails that dropped to her waist.

"Of course you are not familiar with this shape," it said with a leer, "for this shape of Akemi Homura is not the one that dealt with you in your time."

"… You find this amusing, don't you," Madoka snapped at the creature, but her spiteful words did not succeed in wiping the smile off of its face.

"You did ask me to switch to another shape," the creature responded, "perhaps this one is not to your liking?"

"Change into a shape that isn't one of my friends or family," Madoka demanded, before draining her glass of orange juice in protest. The creature shrugged and once again its figure started to twist. This time, it lost the shape of a humanoid, and instead switched to a quadruped form with two enlarged eyes, a fluffy tail, and two glassy red eyes, all covered with snow white fur. All of this, though, was punctuated with an eternally innocent smile on its face.

"How do you like this, then? I may offer you the opportunity to make a contract and become—" The creature's speech was interrupted when Madoka threw the empty glass at its head. Deftly dodging the glass, which shattered on the tiled floor behind it, the creature made a loud "tut" with its mouth: "There is no need to get violent, my good friend."

"Shut it," Madoka quickly snapped with a hint of anger in her voice, "That creature caused all of this suffering. It's nothing but pure evil, and just looking at it makes me feel sick."

"You did ask me to change into a shape that isn't one of your friends or family," the creature shrugged, standing on its hind legs and extending its fore legs in a surprisingly human expression, "I merely followed your instructions."

"You know what I meant; stop twisting my words," Madoka spat, her disdain thick in the air.

"Very well," the creature sighed with a small chuckle, "humans do get attached to appearances."

"It's something that defines us as humans," Madoka responded as the creature twisted its appearance again into a fairly unremarkable image of a girl with long blonde hair and amethyst eyes, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. In a gesture much unfitting for her age, the girl drained the last dregs of whiskey in her glass before pouring herself another, adding ice cubes before she did so.

"Many things define you as humans," the girl continued, seeing that Madoka was finally satisfied with her image, "but, contrary to your belief, you are no longer a human; neither are your companions whose entry into the Black Library I have allowed. All of you have transcended the limitations of human physiology and became something more, and of course this change was not without cost."

"A terrible cost, at that," Madoka muttered. "I'd rather think that even though our bodies and our abilities are beyond human capabilities, the core of our identities remain human."

"You certainly may hope that it is the case, but for you, Kaname Madoka, the very concept of humanity is a detriment to the responsibilities that you must shoulder in the millennia ahead," the girl smiled. Her face was flushed glowing red, and her hand wobbled a bit as she held the glass by its lips with all but her index finger. "For example, the Necrons is a threat that you and your Imperium must deal with. The Eldar and the Orks defended the universe against the Necron threat under the watch of the Old Ones millennia ago, and even then they did not completely defeat it. Now, the Eldar is but a shadow of their formal glory, and your Imperium is fighting the Orks, the Great Enemy, the Tyranids, the Tau, and the Eldar in their different flavors across many, many fronts in addition to the Necron."

Madoka shuddered. If the Necrons were as deadly and unrelenting as the creature advertised, she could not fathom how many lives would be lost in one battle against them. Chaos and the Tyranids were deadly enough: chaos alone claimed her planet and the billions of people residing on it despite her efforts to save them all. But to fight six hostile races all at once, the Imperium had to be bleeding millions of lives every single day.

"… I'll defeat them all," Madoka muttered, her hands balling into fists, "I'll defeat them all, and bring about peace to the Imperium and to everyone in the galaxy."

The girl chuckled with a drunken flair as she sipped more alcohol: "That is all well and good, but you realize that you've just resolved to commit genocide against not just one, but five intelligent alien species."

Madoka froze for a moment, and the girl continued with her drunken chuckle: "While certainly a very human thing to do, you also simply condemned every single creature in the galaxy that did not branch from humanity to death."

"Can't we be friends with them? Defeating doesn't necessarily mean genocide, you know," Madoka protested, finally realizing the "mistake" the girl made in interpreting her words, "We could defeat them and then—"

"Make them into your client races? Make them slaves to humanity's superiority?" The girl cackled. "There is such a thing as a fate worse than death, Kaname Madoka."

"Stop twisting my words! You know what I meant! I want peace and friendship! Not conflicts!" Madoka growled in frustration.

"Unfortunately, as you have observed, conflict will always exist," the girl swished her half glass of whiskey and stared into Madoka's eyes, "between friends, between strangers, between enemies, conflict will always exist no matter how well-intentioned you are, and not all of them can be resolved through dialogue. War is, after all, a method of diplomacy." It let out an amused chuckle. "A more bloody, more savage method, but a method of diplomacy, nonetheless. Besides, it makes for great drama."

"I disagree," Madoka answered firmly, "If we can just understand each other, if we can just talk about it, there's nothing we can't resolve."

"That's the flaw of your argument," the girl immediately answered. "You think that communication and understanding is the key to resolve all conflicts. Why do you think it is, then, that even with diplomats and politicians working together, humans still could not avoid wars? On your planet, world peace is only maintained under the threat of mutual annihilation, and even then you have local wars halfway around the globe. Why do you think that is?"

"That's… because…" Madoka stuttered for a moment. The creature brought up a good point, against which she could not argue. She learned in her history class that her world experienced, and only through the use of not one but two devastatingly powerful weapons did it all came to an end. And even then, conflicts did not cease around the globe. People from less-privileged countries rose up against their oppressors, and much blood was shed in the process. Meanwhile, the superpowers sat there and watched, even supplying tools of murder for the factions, all in the name of "justice", "freedom", "liberty" and "democracy".

The creature's smile grew triumphant. Madoka disliked it, but she knew she had to think of something to counter its arguments in order to wipe the smile off of its face. What was worse, He maintained His silence throughout this whole exchange. In fact, He had not spoken since she engaged in conversation with the alien creature.

"Now, then, I'll let you think about that point for a bit," its smile continued to irritate Madoka, but she shifted her attention to another picture frame that it slid to Madoka across the table, "In the meantime, would you enjoy this small reprieve?"

Madoka glared at the creature: "Is this what you call a reprieve? That you want to continue torturing me with those… images?"

"Kaname Madoka, if you consider this 'torture', then you would be appalled at the methods of some of your agents," it chuckled heartily, "but no, this is nowhere close to as grisly as the frame before. I promise."

"I find my capacity to trust you diminishing by the minute," Madoka mumbled.

"Of course, and that is as it should be," the creature responded by crossing its fingers and resting its elbows on the table before resting its chin on top of its mesh of fingers, "a ruler of a nation should never trust an outsider, be they her friends or her enemies, but she should come to her own conclusions as to the trustworthiness of her intelligence sources. This is a piece of information that I am offering to you; its veracity—and by extension, my trustworthiness—is up to you to decide."

Madoka reached out to the picture frame and touched it hesitantly. Immediately she was whisked to a world where the sun was obscured by thick, sooty clouds. Strangely-shaped planes zipped under the clouds, trailed by neon-blue thrusters. Her view panned to the narrow streets sandwiched between ornate gothic structures, and she found blue-skinned creatures with no visible nose directing lines upon lines of men and women being marched to somewhere.

"You will be given food and water when you arrive at the mine," an alien said in a raspy, harsh male voice. It was obvious that Low Gothic was not his native tongue, as there were a few syllables he could not pronounce correctly. Madoka assumed that he was the foreman of a mine, and these humans were being ushered there as laborers. She shifted her attention to the humans again. They were not bound or restrained in any way, but she could smell their fear and apprehension.

"Where are we being taken?" A jaundiced woman asked. Madoka could see her trembling a little, her filth-smudged face twisted into a worried frown. These people had no idea what fate awaited them; the atrocities about which she read in the history books did mention some things like the scene being played out in front of her at the moment.

"To the mine outside the Hive. You will be given food and water when you arrive. In exchange, you will work for the Greater Good," the foreman repeated as the lines were escorted on foot by soldiers dressed in brightly-colored armor and holding alien weapons emitting faint blue light. They wore peculiar-shaped helmets with a single piece of optics sitting in the middle; the cyclopean "eye" glowed ominous red as it surveyed the soldier's surroundings.

The aliens and the humans seemed to ignore Madoka: it was an illusion after all, she reminded herself. She followed the line voluntarily, but the lines of "laborers" had no beginning and no end; it was as if the residents of the city were being systematically ushered to different designated spots on the planet. Zipping along a line of people, she soon found one of the destinations. It was an open mine outside of the city, and the humans were used to mine _marble_.

Marble! These people needed food, water, adequate clothing, and shelter, and they were used to mine a luxurious construction material! That marble was obviously not meant for building shelter for these people, Madoka seethed. Indeed, what she observed as "shelter" was eerily close to the concentration camps about which she had read in the history books. Men, women and children were cramped together in hastily and shoddily constructed sheds of grey-blue metal. There were no beds available to them: they slept on the floor, and some children slept on top of their parents because there were not enough space. The sanitation equipment was barely adequate, and these people were dressed in dirty rags. The foremen seemed to only care about preventing a large-scale plague from breaking out and gave no thought about anything else.

Compared to their living conditions, food and water was plentiful. They were offered bread, water and some strange alien fruits that she did not recognize. The people were mostly apprehensive of the alien fruits, but they accepted the bread and water without complaint. At least they were treated humanely on one front; Madoka sighed in relief, but immediately she reminded herself that these people were used as slave labor for someone in the society that needed marble to construct their residence. Supplying enough food and water only served to make these people work more effectively.

There were posters lined here and there on the walls and fences, Madoka observed. They were mostly propaganda pieces written in Low Gothic that advocates a philosophy they call "the Greater Good", saying that the purpose for these ragged people was to work for the collective benefit of "the Tau Empire", whatever that benefit was. Madoka interpreted "the Greater Good" as benefitting the apex of this society, somewhat like the party leaders of a Communist Party.

An anguished cry caught her attention among the sheds, and Madoka immediately shifted her attention to the source of the noise. A little girl who was no older than Tatsuya was in the arms of an armored soldier. The soldier carried no weapons, but his friends carried them. The girl was flailing and wailing, trying to reach her mother who kneeled only an arm's reach away and sobbed helplessly.

The shrill screams of the little girl cut into Madoka's heart. Tatsuya cried a lot, too, as it was not uncommon for children his age to cry and demand things. Her wails, though, were different. To Madoka, it felt like her world was being taken apart and demolished at its foundations. Her world was crumbling down, and Madoka could do little to help.

Over the child's howls, Madoka could hear a conversation going on between a robed alien and the child's father, who was pleading for the child to remain. The alien seemed female, though her voice was still raspy and her Low Gothic harsh. The child was being taken away to a certain place where she would receive education and training to better serve the Greater Good, the female said, but Madoka could not stand this argument. Children her age should be playing in a kindergarten; they should be showered with love from parents, relatives, and friends. They should not be taken away from their parents!

"Stop this," Madoka reached out to the soldiers and ordered, "stop it! You can't take her away like this!"

And she suddenly returned to the dinner table.

* * *

><p>As the wave of energy washed off of her skin like a cool film of water, Hitomi found herself backstage at a concert hall. She was wearing a beautiful water-green gown made of the finest silk she had ever seen, the cool fabric caressing every inch of her skin like a gentle breeze.<p>

Her lipstick was too thick and heavy even though it was only a thin layer of red gloss. She found her hands sweating profusely while her entire body shuddered. The dimly-lit backstage was so cold that the hairs on her exposed arms stood up. She remembered this feeling well; it was like the time she went on stage in front of more than a hundred people for her piano recital, only that her dress was nowhere close to as lavish and nice as the one she was wearing at the moment.

She took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her chest. Through the skin, she could feel her heart pounding like a drum; the thumping organ even reached her skull, sending deep, reverberating thuds throughout her cranium. At this rate, she would not need a mental note to keep time, Hitomi smiled wryly.

"Are you ready?" A familiar voice asked and Hitomi turned around. Kamijou Kyousuke stood there, holding his violin by its neck. He was dressed in a sharp, black tuxedo with a snow-white shirt and a black bowtie, like a professional musician, though it was only his debut recital after his recovery.

"Yes," Hitomi could not help but blush a little at his gentle smile, but her mind paused a little. How did she know that it was his debut recital? It never happened. Kamijou Kyousuke was dead, she remembered. Was this a dream? It had to have been a dream, Hitomi decided, for only in dreams could life be so… happy.

"They are waiting for us," he whispered, and though both of his hands were occupied Hitomi had an urge to hold onto him. With a knowing smile, he held his bow and violin together with his right hand, and extended his right hand toward Hitomi in invitation.

"Yes," answered Hitomi meekly, her face blushing hotter than the sun. This was a dream, so it was okay, she told herself as she extended her arms and took his hand. This was a dream, a dream from which she never wanted to wake. Kyousuke smiled at her, and she felt the warmth of his hand in hers. His hand was equally moist and slippery, but somehow the warmth overrode all fear in her mind as she took a step with him and walked on stage to thunderous applause from the audience. The stage light blinded her, but from the noise level she assumed that she had a full hall of people, eager for Kyousuke's recovery debut.

Both of them bowed, and Kyousuke motioned a kiss on her cheeks. Hitomi jumped a little at the peck, but she quickly smiled and regained her composure. Walking to the grand piano on stage, she almost tripped over herself in excitement. The music had already been arranged on the piano, but she did not need it; her memory had served her well during these recitals, and the countless days of practice had practically drilled the music into her head.

Of course there had not been countless days of practice, Hitomi smiled wryly; it was a dream, after all, and it bore no actual relevance to reality. She would not complain, however, if this was reality and all the death and destruction she had witnessed were a bad dream instead. Gently she laid her hands onto the keyboard. The cool touch of ebony and ivory keys made her shiver with delight. There was no need for Kyousuke to glance at her to signal his start; the beginning of the music consisted of eighteen measures of violin solo, she remembered.

The bow pranced in Kyousuke's hand as he started, and Hitomi soon joined him in song. Language was inadequate to express themselves; only through the hums and roars of their instruments could they truly embrace each other and show themselves to the world. The music—the _Kreutzer Concerto_—was difficult even for a maestro, but Kyousuke intentionally picked this piece as the only item for this recital.

The choice was for good reason, Hitomi thought as Kyousuke's violin roared in fury. Her piano followed, notes flowing out of it like a tidal wave of anguish. It was pure rage from both Kyousuke and Hitomi: rage at the world's unfairness, at fate's fickleness, and at life's bitterness. Hitomi had no time to gauge the audience's reactions, for her part on the piano was as difficult as Kyousuke's part on the violin. She could feel them gasping, sighing, grunting at the ebb and flow of their heart's feelings, and she smiled.

Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she felt Kyousuke's anger crash out of his violin. There was no need to look at him, even though they were but a foot apart from each other. Sweat quietly rolled down her cheeks and dripped onto her lap as the music waxed and waned. The sheer amount of emotions contained in Kyousuke's performance weighed heavily on her heart, and the only way for her to relieve this stress was through her music, through singing with him together using her piano.

A brief pause offered her and her audience a little reprieve, as she heard herself and them sighing audibly in the silent recital hall. She rubbed her hands a little; they trembled and shook from the vigorous exercise through which she pushed them earlier. The first movement was his opportunity to transmit his thoughts and emotions on the fate that befell him. The second movement was her chance to bring her thoughts into the equation.

Her piano sang. There was no lyrics, but the piano—under her direction—had a voice of its own. His violin soon joined in a melodic hum to the frolicking of her fingers. Kyousuke's condition was tragic, to be certain, and he had the right to be angry about it. But Hitomi was equally certain that anger was not the correct attitude to deal with his situation, for rage alone would not make any difference in his life.

She was angry at times, too, Hitomi recalled. She was angry at Sayaka and Madoka for hiding the world of the Magical Girls from her. She was angry at the universe for imposing such a dismal fate on Magical Girls. She was angry at Sayaka for making the foolish sacrifice to save Kyousuke. She was angry at Kyousuke for attempting to rape her. She was angry at herself for letting Sayaka become who she was. And ultimately, she was angry at Kane for not accepting her.

But he did accept her, however reluctantly, and her indignation had nothing to do with it. Furthermore, her rage led her into becoming a Magical Girl in the first place. If it were not for Madoka's ascension, Hitomi would have succumbed to the daemon in time and lose her soul to whatever eldritch abomination that waited for her in the shadows.

With her thoughts, the notes ebbed into a soft whisper, and Kyousuke followed. It was his sonata recital, but he was going along with her thoughts like the attentive listener he was. Exasperation was not the answer. Kane's acceptance of her was not because of her anger but because of practical reasons. Her power was not fueled by hate, but hope: hope that the next day was going to be better, hope that life would improve, hope that one day, maybe one day, Sayaka would return to her former, cheerful self.

Her song glowed into a free-flowing conversation between her piano and Kyousuke's violin. Their minds were intermingling through not language but notes, and the audience was enjoying the immense privilege of listening in on this coalescence of souls. While she immersed herself in quiet contemplation, he was playful; his notes danced around hers, and it made her crack a small smile. The movements of her hands, in turn, became more ginger and deliberate as she unraveled her knitted fabric of thought and chased after strands of his choosing.

The music slowed, and Kyousuke flowed into contemplative meditation. Through the slight vibrato of his strings and the long, drawn-out notes, Hitomi could sense his regret. The nights and days he spent hating himself and lamenting fate were time he wasted. If he had realized Hitomi's point earlier, if he had just made steps to pull himself back together…

Hitomi's smile grew wider as she caressed the piano as she would caress Kyousuke. It was all right; everyone made mistakes. Sayaka made mistakes. Mami made mistakes. Kyouko made mistakes. Even Madoka and Kane made mistakes. It was only natural, she reassured him; it was only natural and it was all right.

It was not too late to change, both for him, and for her; it was not too late to look to the future, to use their own hands to build a better future. Hitomi's music flowed into a brighter section as her thoughts turned. But Kyousuke required some more convincing; he asked with long, shifting notes, and she answered with short, ginger sequences. The lamentation and the reluctance did not last long, however; soon Kyousuke moved in agreement with her as she led, ending the movement with a consensus. It was time, both of them agreed, that they should leave the past behind them and look to the future, where hope and joy lay.

After a small reprieve for Hitomi's hands and mind, the third movement opened with a loud, abrupt chord, with which Hitomi opened the golden, gilded gate of paradise. Birds, beasts and bees danced with her rapid, ginger string of notes in the Garden of Eden; and Kyousuke was there with her, dancing to her melody. He once again painted a picture, but this time she was also holding a brush.

In their dance, both of them led, and both of them followed. Repetition and variation of the theme truly brought out the back and forth between their steps. In the Garden of Eden, they danced, with Hitomi dressed like a princess and Kyousuke her prince on white horse. The surrounding scenery was important no longer, for her passion melded with his as they traded leadership through this vigorous prance, and their heart melted into each other as they danced.

He grew quiet for a moment. The music was soft, gentle, and… he was thankful, thankful to her that she brought him out of the darkness of depression and into the light of liveliness. She returned his gratitude with hers; if not for his tirade at the beginning, she would not have reflected on her actions and reached her conclusions.

And the ending was explosive. The prince and the princess declared their love of each other with a kiss, and the world cheered. The sonata came to an end, and Hitomi felt infinitely better than she did before she fell asleep.

But then, there was only a single person applauding. Hitomi stood up, and the stage light happened to turn off at the moment. All but two spotlights were on: one shone on Hitomi in her water-green dress, and another shown on a blue-haired girl dressed in an azure silk dress standing in the dead center of the concert hall.

Sayaka was the sole applauder, and she was smiling. Hitomi saw something glittering on Sayaka's face, and she felt something cutting her cheeks as something else welled up through her chest into her throat.

Hitomi trembled. And then she woke up.

* * *

><p>Madoka felt something moist roll down her cheeks and fall off of her chin. The little girl was the same age as Tatsuya, yet she was being forcibly torn from her world: "Why… why did you show me that?"<p>

The alien creature in the shape of a girl smiled and sipped her whiskey: "To show you how terrible the galaxy is. The Tau is one of your potential allies."

"Allies?" Madoka sniffled. "My ally doesn't enslave my people! My ally doesn't forcibly separate a child from her parents!"

"But this is the best you can get in this universe. Do you know why they haven't risen up and challenged the Tau?" The girl snarled quietly. Even though the smile on her face did not fade, Madoka could hear it vanishing in her voice: "That's because even though the Tau are sterilizing them and using them as slaves, they are still fed and clothed and treated with some dignity. That's more than what they could get from your Imperium!"

"She speaks the truth," He had finally broken his long silence, and Madoka could sense the bitterness in His voice, "the living conditions of many Imperial citizens are abysmal."

"Then why didn't anyone do anything about it? Why do they keep living like that? Why aren't measures taken to make them more comfortable?" Madoka simply could not fathom the answers to those questions. The Imperium, in her impressions, was a vast empire with almost limitless resources. Even though they were at war across the galaxy against many hostile species and bleeding millions of men every day, it should not have prevented most citizens from getting at least adequate food, water, and sanitation.

"There are no easy answers to those questions, Kaname Madoka," the girl drained her glass in one long chug. Lazily, she laid the empty bottle flat on the table and spun it in melancholic boredom: "You think that you can solve every problem. The fact of the matter, however, suggests that you are not even close to being able to solve every problem on your own.

"Humanity's enemies are not the Tau. They are not the Eldar. They are not the Orks. They are not the Necrons. They are not even the Tyranids, whose full, terrible might you have yet to witness," the girl continued as the bottle spun. "Humanity's enemies are, will be, and have always been themselves. You are the dominant species in the galaxy; you are the major source of power for the Chaos gods, who in turn play with your people like pieces on an infinitely large chess board."

Madoka remained silent as the girl's voice trailed off, but her mind was restless. She reached deep within His memories and thoughts, desperately probing for evidence to refute the girl's claim. She was only greeted with disappointment. The devastation caused by the Horus Heresy was not because of aliens that meddled in the Imperium's affairs. It was caused by madness, greed, suspicion, doubt, jealousy, rage—all of them perfectly human qualities.

"I… these things… I can't just remove them," Madoka whispered. "These emotions define us. They are what makes us who we are. I can't lobotomize a whole race."

"You are… what do you humans call it? 'Caught between a rock and a hard place', I believe. Oh, it matters little how I say it; the situation remains," the girl replied with a drunken grin, "As you know, these emotions also feed your enemies. No matter how hard you work, no matter how hard you try, they would always remain."

"When I… when I decided to take on this responsibility, 'impossible' isn't an answer, and it isn't an answer now!" Madoka snarled. "Even if I'm not able to solve every problem, I can at least do something to make their lives better! No one in the universe is in a better position to help them than I am!"

The girl nodded, her ever-present smile growing wider: "Perhaps He was right to choose you as His host, after all. Naïve and inexperienced as you may be, you possess an iron will that could stand up to him as an equal. This next fragment may give you some ideas."

"Ideas?"

"Ideas on how you _can_ make a difference," she picked up the last picture frame in that stack and played with it in her hand, spinning it on top of her slender index finger like a tiny saucer. "Any action that touches more than one important person's pie would be met with resistance. Reforming your Imperium will take more than time and patience; it would require quite a bit of military force and all the political capital you can get. Though your influence in the Imperium would be unparalleled and your word is law, you cannot reasonably expect that everyone would abide by your laws in earnest the moment you utter them."

Madoka knew what she meant by "resistance"; the thought of the word saddened her. His disposition did not help things, either: "There will likely be bloodshed. Although we are the leader of the Imperium, our position means nothing if our subordinates would not follow. Ten thousand years of corruption and bureaucracy are not so easily swept aside, and people in positions of power would fight back in any way they can as is dictated by their human nature. People under their charge—simple, innocent folks who knew not the big picture and knew not that they were being deceived—would do the majority of the bleeding. Bringing these factions under your control is likely to consume much of your energy in the next couple of centuries."

"I wish… I wish they would understand. If they saw the big picture, they would understand," Madoka said wistfully.

"Just the opposite, in fact," the girl replied to Madoka's whisper. "The Eldar was a psychic race. They could communicate their ideas and thoughts quite well with each other. But in the end, Chaos still took them, and they are, as you know, on the verge of extinction. Even with telepathy, most of them did not understand.

"Observe you and Him," the girl continued, as she noticed that Madoka was listening intently. "Both of you share the same shell. Both of you share the same memories and experience the same things. Yet you two almost never reach the same conclusions. Why is that?"

"That's because we are different—!" Madoka snapped, and immediately she realized what the girl was trying to say. "Yes… we are different. Homura-chan and I are different. Kyouko and I are different. Hitomi and I are different. Even Sayaka and I are different. We won't necessarily come to the same conclusions."

"You want to reform the Imperium so that its citizens could live a better life, protect them from external harm, and at the same time do it without bloodshed. It is a lofty goal, and an admirable one, if not one that is highly improbable to achieve," the girl spun the bottle once more. "Doing it without a psychic compulsion is next to impossible. Said compulsion would be to have your people obey your every word; in effect, it is a more insidious sort of slavery. Instead of aliens or Chaos being their master, you would serve that role, and no one but yourself would even be aware that you enslaved them."

"Improbable and impossible are not the same," Madoka balled her fists. "If there is a chance, no matter how slim, that it could happen, then I'm taking that chance."

"You will be sorely disappointed," the girl sighed and slid the picture frame to Madoka. "The odds are stacked against you. Your resources would be stretched to the breaking point while you fight in dozens of theaters across the galaxy against aliens and your own people. Even I do not see how this course of action could bear any fruit."

Madoka glanced down at the picture frame: "Still. I have to try."

"I hope you are prepared enough for disappointment and despair," the girl's smile vanished for the first time, "but enough of the talk about the Imperium's social problems. The more pressing matter—and one that thankfully does not present you a sadistic choice—is how you would deal with the real threat to your species."

"Chaos," Madoka whispered. "The existence of emotions fuel them."

"Yes, but this species had quite effectively utilized their psychic presence and at the same time be largely immune to Chaos," the girl smiled. "Observe."

"I don't think I should." Madoka averted her eyes and avoided touching the frame. "So far, the images you have shown me were nothing like you advertised."

"I have only shown you facts as I know them, young one. Whether or not you accept them is up to you."

Wondering whether or not she was actually a glutton for punishment, Madoka reached out and reluctantly touched the frame. She was whisked to a barren planet thick with radioactive soot. A long canyon was the first thing that caught Madoka's attention. At the end of the canyon, what seemed like the massive wreckage of a large space ship lay silent. The wreckage seemed to be maintained as it was looted: Madoka saw stocky, green-skinned humanoids carrying parts and components out of the wreckage as others scaled it, painting strange symbols and pictures on the ship's distorted hull.

The one imagery that she saw repeated was a giant skull. The skull was primitive to say the best: its cranium is irregularly shaped and square, and its lower jaw was much more prominent than its upper jaw. Many of these skull symbols—some metal, some paint, some wood, some made from bleached bones, to Madoka's disgust—were placed there, some overlapping others.

In the distance, Madoka saw that these green-skinned creatures were erecting something. Being curious, she flew toward it for a closer look. The humanoid machine was a giant, bloated version of the greenskins themselves. It was constructed from patches of metal shoddily welded together and painted blood red, and it bristled with weapons mounted everywhere: one gigantic gun with sharp metal jaws around it even extruded from its enormous armored belly. As some greenskins dressed like mechanics and repairmen climbed the four-story-high construct, others danced at its feet in a sort of religious chant. Madoka could see metal and parts from the crashed vessel being ferried to the construction camp by smaller creatures.

Large banners and signs dotted the place. Madoka could not help but notice that these signs, too, bore the same design as the symbols she saw on the hull of the wreck: large, square skull with an oversized lower jaw and ragged teeth. She glanced up at the unfinished war machine. Its head, too, was a large, square object with an oversized lower jaw and ragged teeth.

She floated down to ground level and observed these aliens. Their armor and weapons were made from nothing but bits of scrap metal; they were so shoddy and primitive that Madoka had a hard time imagining any of them working as they are intended. But apparently, the menacing weapons matched the violent nature of these creatures, as one of them just used a makeshift pistol to blow off the head of a smaller, scrawny creature. They had large, square craniums with barely any hair. Their jaws were oversized: each and every one of them had an under-bite. Their tusks extrudes from their lower jaw upwards, making them even more bestial in appearance.

Perhaps it was a confidence issue, Madoka thought; these symbols and the giant mech all resemble themselves. Though these were ugly creatures, they seemed pleased with their appearance. Or, maybe it was a kind of worship, Madoka guessed. After all, humans once thought that God also looked human; art from ages past all but confirms this train of thought, as God was often depicted as a wise, old man of various color. These symbols and the mech may as well resemble their version of God…

Their version of God…!

Before her train of thought could finish, Madoka was suddenly yanked back to the dinner table.

* * *

><p>Tick.<p>

Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Homura was surrounded by clocks. Grandfather clocks, gemmed wrist watches, mechanical alarm clocks, cat-shaped digital alarm clocks, even the large machine they call an "atom clock" floated and spun idly around her, their noises forming a cacophony that echoed throughout the empty space around her.

She glanced around. Her body ached. She was in her Magical Girl uniform, her trusty time-travelling shield still strapped on her wrist. She has no wounds on her body; but somehow, there seemed to be ethereal knives carving into her flesh, driving into her organs, and she was suffering excruciating pain.

She swung her body around. The deep blue background was dotted with speckles of light, twinkling and winking at her like stars on a clear summer night. As much as she tried, however, she could not ignore the monotonous ticks of the clocks around her. Attempts to swim away from the circle of timekeeping devices was futile, she soon learned; space was not a fluid, after all.

Frustrated, she reached out to a circular clock. Her hand passed through it, to her surprise, and the clock itself starts to warp and shift. At the same time, everything around her seemed to melt into a soft liquid that flowed along undefined curvatures and all of them started screaming, ringing, chiming, beeping; their noise overwhelmed even the loudest thoughts Homura had and slammed into her brain like a giant sledgehammer.

She quickly retracted her hand; it, too, began melting like the rest of her body, and her vision distorted. To her abject horror, the Soul Gem on the back of her hand was pitch black.

With a scream, she woke up to the ceiling of her room in the hospital. The curtain was closed; the fluorescent light on the ceiling bled a sickly white into the room, shrouding everything in pathological paleness. The small bundle of flowers sitting in a PET bottle vase on her bedside table had already wilted. Beside said vase, there rested a well-read book, on top of which Homura's red half-framed glasses lay in silence.

The front and the back of her lingerie were both drenched. Homura panted heavily, trying hard to steady her heart rate. How many times has it been? She wondered. How many iterations had it been since she met Madoka for the first time? How many failures had it been since she made her wish? How many more times would she have to repeat this sad fate only to see Madoka die?

Intuitively she felt for the Rosario, but it was not there. As it should be, Homura remembered, because she had given it to Madoka already and…

Homura's train of thought skidded to a halt. Wait a darn minute. Madoka had completed her pact with Him. The planet was destroyed. They were travelling through the webway, and then they stumbled upon a weird alien that led them to the Black Library, and…

"Greetings, Akemi Homura."

A voice called to her. Homura tilted her head to see the voice's owner, and her eyes widened. Standing in front of her was herself with twin braids bound with red ribbons and wearing a pair of red-framed glasses. It was… it was her past self.

"What are you?" Homura asked, her body suddenly tense. "You are not me. What are you?"

"It is more accurate to say that 'I am no longer you,' is it not, Akemi Homura?" Her doppelganger smiled and sat beside her bed.

Homura wanted to move, but she felt weak. "What do you want?" She hissed, averting her eyes from her twin. "What are you trying to accomplish by wearing my likeliness?"

"Why, to seduce Kaname Madoka, of course! Have you not already succeeded in that?" The sentence almost earned the creature a faceful of wilted plants and stagnant water as Homura flung the PET vase along with its content at her. "Ooh. I must have hit a sensitive spot."

"Silence, Xeno." Homura snarled. She wanted to roll off the bed and blast the damned alien with her melta gun, but her muscles refused to cooperate. And then she noticed her Soul Gem in the alien's palm: "Return that to me. Now."

"Would it not be more appropriate to request that I 'put you down'?" The alien's wicked smile never vanished. She spun the amethyst gem in her hand like spinning an egg. "I am aware of what you are, you know."

"So?" Homura growled, "I would rather die than have you use me as a hostage against Madoka."

"Relax, Akemi Homura," the alien responded by casually tossing the Gem to Homura, who barely caught it with her hands, "for your role in the cosmos was preordained, and I would not attempt to rewrite fate. Though, I know that a certain mutual acquaintance of ours who would love to see it rewritten."

"Why am I here?" Homura asked pointedly, having already transformed into her Magical Girl outfit. "And why are you taking on my face?"

"Why? Because I felt like it," the creature cackled. It fished out a golf club out of seemingly nowhere, and twirled it around like a baton, "and because I know all about you, Akemi Homura. This is the original golf club with which you initially armed yourself."

"Enough!" Homura rolled off of her bed. She pulled out her handgun—a Desert Eagle that she had kept around for a long time—and aimed it at the creature, flicking off its safety and racking a round faster than the eye could tell. "Enough with the mind games! What do you want?"

"A better question for you, Akemi Homura, is what do _you _want?" The alien asked, staring down the barrel of Homura's weapon with no fear. "Now that you've accomplished your mission of saving yourself from your endless cycle of suffering, what do you want to do next?"

"Except that's not what I did at all," Homura protested, her gun shaking slightly as she gripped it tighter. "All I ever wanted was to stop Madoka from dying or from becoming a Witch. This motivation has nothing to do with myself!"

"Such fierce denial may buy you some sympathy from the ignorant, but I know better, Akemi Homura," the alien giggled loudly as if Homura had just said something hilarious. "You simply cannot deny that you wished for a happy ending, one in which you and Kaname Madoka lived happily ever after like a prince and a princess in some fairy tale. I am amazed that it had deluded you for so long."

"How dare you say that!? How dare you!?" Homura snarled menacingly as her finger curled around the trigger, but somehow she found herself unable to pull it. "All I wished for is her happiness! All I wished for is for her to live a wonderful life!"

"But examine her current predicament, Akemi Homura," the girl continued to chuckle. "I would be strained to say that her future is a wonderful one. I could not possibly say with a straight face that Kaname Madoka would obtain happiness. And it was you, Akemi Homura, who have thrust this fate upon her."

"This is better than having her become a Witch that devours the entire universe! Or have her possessed by some daemon!" Homura screamed and added her left hand to steady her grip.

"But does she deserve to burn out her fire for trillions of people she has never met? Does she want to expend her light to master the darkness that cannot be conquered? Does she deserve this fate, that which upon her you have thrust? Does she?"

"It's the… it's the only way!" Homura's voice broke, "I don't want to see her suffer! I don't want to see her die! Not again! Not again!"

"So, at the very core, all of this looping, all of this… bloodshed, they are still for yourself," the alien scoffed, "but that is perfectly fine. There is no fault to be found in selfishness. I have to commend you, even; you have endured pain and anguish to work for your goal, even though said goal is not exactly what you had in mind.

"But, what's done is already done," it continued. "The more important thing for you to realize is, now that your goal has been achieved in a way, what's next? You have lived for Madoka's freedom from this vicious cycle, and you have succeeded in freeing her from it. For whom should you live now? For what would you fight now?"

Homura's eyelids drooped a little. She quickly averted her eyes and stared into a corner, but her hands—and her gun—did not shift their target. In that moment, however, the alien moved like water. In the blink of an eye, Homura found herself disarmed and the creature breathing menacingly into her face.

"A moment of weakness may rob you of the chance to regret it, Akemi Homura," the alien growled like a predator. Homura found herself unable to tear her eyes away from its face, even though it looked exactly like her. "Certainly, Kaname Madoka is vastly stronger than you are in many aspects, but you too must remain steadfast, Akemi Homura, for there exists ones that would rely on your strength as well."

"What… are you trying to say?" The alien's presence seeped into Homura's pores. Only at this distance did Homura realize that she was way out of her league. The creature's power was such that not even she, who toyed with time at will, would be able to defeat it, and especially not on its home turf.

"There will be many trials for you, for Kaname Madoka, and for humanity as a whole after your departure from here," the alien breathed, her words seemingly stabbing into Homura like thrown knives. "Without your strength, without your resolve, without your courage, I fear that all your efforts up till now will be for naught."

Homura took a step backwards and found herself falling onto her bed, with the alien on top of her. Her hands were still tightly restrained by the alien's iron grip, and she found it hard to breathe with the alien's other hand pressing down on her collarbone with all its weight.

"You have been forged in the hottest blaze and tempered in the coldest frost. You have experienced much, learned much, and lost much," the alien continued, caring not how Homura felt. "On the other hand, though powerful beyond measure, Kaname Madoka does not share the experience you possess. I have tried to influence her the best I can, as has the soul you bequeathed upon her, but even that remains insufficient. Your counsel would be necessary to guide her boundless energy and steer her relentless drive for change."

"I… The only thing I know how to do is to fight, I'm…" Homura averted her eyes again, but she could feel the alien's eyes bearing into her skull. "I don't know if I can…"

"It is to our mutual benefit, Akemi Homura, for I am certain that you would like to help her avoid many a pitfall," it said while breathing into Homura's ear. It tickled her so much that she blushed lightly. "If you wish for her happiness, it is the most logical course of action."

The alien's grip loosened and it removed itself from Homura, enabling her to breathe normally once more. Homura panted for a moment and caught her breath: "But… why me?"

"You are her friend. You have her ears. And, as a friend, it would be your duty to correct her when she strays, would it not?" The creature let out a long, drawn-out cackle as she walked away from Homura's bed into what seemed to be an endless void.

"Choose well, Akemi Homura. I look forward to how you shape the galaxy."

* * *

><p>"…oka! …adoka!"<p>

A voice rang in her head, calling her name. Who was it? She sounded awfully familiar…

"Madoka!"

With a gentle shake of her body, Madoka opened her eyes. Homura was sitting by her side and looking over her; the black-haired girl's face was filled with worry. Sayaka stood between her and something with her sword drawn. Kyouko and Hitomi used to stand with her, but quickly broke formation when Madoka woke up to be at her side.

"Oh, thank goodness, you're okay…" Homura breathed a sigh of relief.

"How… how long was I out…?" Madoka was still a little disoriented. It had to have been a long time, she reckoned, given the length of her experience with the girl in that illusion; but despite her dizziness, she sat up with some help from Homura.

"We've just woken up, too," answered Homura, wiping a hint of a tear from the corner of her eyes and squeezing out a smile, "I don't know exactly for how long we've all been out."

"It has not been that long, really." Madoka immediately recognized that voice. The alien who had played tricks on her senses—and presumably on the senses of the rest of the Magical Girls—sat on the other side of the Magical Girl barrier. "Welcome, Kaname Madoka, to the Black Library."

Madoka glanced around her surroundings. She was lying under a colorful Wraithbone dome of life-like colored debossings much like the frescoes and tiled ceilings she saw inside churches. The figure, on the other hand, sat on a Wraithbone throne decorated with intricately carved curves and motifs of fleurs-de-lis. The chamber in which they sat seemed circular with no windows, and the curved walls were adorned with sculptures of various Eldar in differing poses.

"This is the Black Library?" She asked quietly. "There are no books."

The figure chuckled loudly: "An ordinary library would not check your sanity, test your resolve, or understand your motivations."

"You're the one… that…" Madoka could still feel the throbbing headache that trick had left her. "What… did you want to accomplish?"

"It was merely a test, Kaname Madoka," the figure giggled, "the knowledge of the Black Library is not to be given freely. Though your admittances are allowed, we must make certain that you would be able to put such potent weapons of destruction to good use."

"That was all a test?" Madoka was incredulous. "You went too far for a test! Why did you have to show me all of that?"

"You must understand the universe as they are. For you, learning on the job is not an option, since we fear that you and the universe may suffer… unintended consequences, shall we say," he continued to chuckle, "It is in your power, Kaname Madoka, to save your children and mine. Knowledge is our weapon against the tide of madness, and we shall bequeath it to you for that purpose."

"Your… children?"

"I believe you are already acquainted with them," he shifted his legs and leaned back, "the foolish children of ours, who led their paradise into ruin millennia ago."

The Eldar!

"Of course!" Madoka blurted without a moment of thought, "Of course! They've suffered long enough! They deserve a second chance!"

She stood up, and he slipped out of his throne. Sayaka quickly sheathed her sword and stood to her side, and the two came face to face on the red carpet that extended from his throne.

"Kaname Madoka," he said solemnly. Even though Madoka had grown quite a bit since her transformation, he was still about a head taller than her, and his build was much more slender—almost pathologically so, in fact. The mask on his face did not obscure his eyes; through them, Madoka could see the universe staring back at her.

"This is no game," he continued as Madoka unflinchingly looked into his eyes. "You realize that you cannot eliminate conflicts and thus bloodshed."

Madoka hesitated for a moment: "… Perhaps. As long as people retain their individuality, no amount of communication would eliminate conflicts. I would not be so foolish as to attempt to brainwash everyone."

He smiled: "Indeed. It is the same between humans, and it is the same between other species."

"I now know what my role would be," Madoka continued. "I am the defender of humanity and its friends, and the bane of its enemies. I will protect those under my charge with all my power, and I will serve them faithfully so that their pursuit of happiness remain unhindered. The end does not and will not justify the means; therefore, I will lead my people with honor, courage and compassion, so that our actions are just, our intentions pure, and our rewards satisfying and well-deserved."

"What do you do when your people are threatened?"

"I will defend them without hesitation."

"What do you do when your friends betray you?"

"I will help them see the error of their ways."

"What do you do when you're faced with a hard choice?"

"I will work so that I would never have to."

"You have already failed once at that." The reminder sent Madoka's face twisting with pain. The images of devastation Chaos wreaked on her planet were seared into her mind.

"Never again!" She answered, her form seething and trembling. "Because I know how painful it is, no one else should experience what I went through! Never again!"

"Good answers, Kaname Madoka of the Imperium, though reality may contradict you on that last one," he laughed and applauded, before laying his hand onto her forehead: "As long as you abide by these words, you would be a good leader. As such, I shall now bestow my knowledge upon you; knowledge that I have safeguarded for many millennia, knowledge that you may use to aid you in achieving your goal."

Madoka was blinded by a flash of light. She found herself floating in a sea of deep azure adorned with billions of twinkling lights, some even right in front of her. With but a thought, a sparkle of light leaped into her palms, and she brought it in front of her eyes. It blinked and whispered to her feats of which she dared not dream, miracles that she never thought of attempting.

The vast knowledge of the Black Library was within her grasp, yet they were not hers. Madoka knew that it would take years upon years of study and research to make sense of all of them, but at the moment, she needed to attend to more pressing matters.

Her physical body stumbled backwards as the blinding flash subsided. Still reeling from the awesome feeling of empowerment, she let out an airy, hoarse laugh. Around her, her companions exchanged worried looks; the suspicion that he had harmed her somehow was visible in their eyes.

"That… that was amazing…" Madoka's hands trembled. She thought about better containing her powers, and almost instantly, several dozen bits of knowledge came rushing into her brain. "I could… this is… wow…"

"Be careful, Kaname Madoka. Although information is power, knowledge is to be feared and ignorance a virtue, as your Imperium is prone to say," he chuckled at Madoka's amazement. "Though, ultimately, it is not information that causes harm, but one's own actions taken in accordance with the interpretation of such information that are capable of causing calamities."

"In short, it is not what I know, but what I do with what I know," Madoka nodded and smiled at him. "Thank you."

"There is no need for gratitude," He seemed taken aback at Madoka's smile; his attempt at hiding his surprise was not entirely successful. But he quickly regained his composure: "The knowledge is yours to share, but only amongst your companions in the library today. I trust you will exercise good judgment and abide by that rule."

"Certainly, but… why just the five of us?" Madoka was puzzled.

"You are still too trusting to strangers. Secrets are like water in a glass; once spilled, it can never be recovered," he said, stressing the word "never": "You must not share it outside of your companions whom I have invited in here with you today. Am I understood?"

"… Yes."

Madoka's answer was to his satisfaction. He then brought out a metallic cube, before grabbing Madoka's right hand and placing it on her palm: "And one last thing."

"What is this?" Madoka marveled at the cube. It was a trinket not just slightly bigger than a tennis ball. There were ridged grooves on two of its faces, a small crystalline "port" on another face, and the rest of its faces were completely smooth. If it were an artifact capable of great feats, it was certainly unremarkable; Madoka expected it to at least be as ornate as the hilt of Homura's power sword, if that was the case.

"The answer to that question lies beneath crimson sands, Kaname Madoka," he laughed, before turning away from the group of Magical Girls. "Go now. You have a promise to fulfill."

"I will definitely protect everyone!"

But before Madoka's words could reach him, they were sent away from his side.

"Would you able to keep your promise, I wonder? Or would you be doomed to fail like we who came before you?" He mused, his voice wispy.

"The actors are in place. The stage is set. The curtains part. The final act is about to begin…"

* * *

><p>The Warp Storm between Mars and Terra had finally matured as the Astropaths and the Prognosticars predicted. The ones that dared peer into the storm and investigate the eye had to be put down after their minds were utterly shattered by some malignant presence in the storm; as such, the Lord Castellan had no idea how many ships were coming through the eldritch portal until they poured forth.<p>

Creed thought the Black Crusade was the full might of the Traitors. After all, few Chaos incursions could cause devastation on the magnitude of a Black Crusade. If the Imperium had weathered thirteen Black Crusades throughout the millennia, they could withstand this attack, especially when Chaos forces would be depleted since the end of the last crusade was not that long ago.

He was wrong.

The Traitor fleet that had emerged from the Warp Storm was larger than anything he had ever seen. He had read the naval scouting reports; the bulk of Abaddon's host had not arrived because there were no sightings of the Planet Killer, and that by no means comforted him. Given the numbers of the Traitor fleet, and anticipating the horrors carried by those ships, that he could only fathom, he expected that the combined might of Battlefleets Solar, Agripnaa, Gothic, and Armageddon could only delay the eventual landing of Traitors on Terra.

The Traitors, in their vanity, used to launch costly ground assaults at the Imperial Palace and that had always given the Faithful an edge. The Imperial Palace was extremely well fortified against orbital bombardment and ground assault alike, and Creed was certain that the Custodes along with the Imperial Fists who had just arrived at Terra would defend it to their last breath. A protracted siege with the best defenses of the entire galaxy on their side would only cost the Traitors manpower and resources.

The Lord Castellan quickly flicked away ash from his cigar as his command post rumbled. Regardless of the Astartes' devotion and zeal, the cold mathematics of war was not on the Imperium's side. Eventually, their forces would be depleted and the Imperial Palace breached. Their hopes would be resting on reinforcements arriving from across the galaxy to its defense, but through foul machinations of Chaos, all Warp travel to Terra had been significantly delayed. Any chapter, regiment or battlefleet outside of Segmentum Solar was likely to miss the defense altogether. In the worst case, if the Astronomican were to blink off while the bulk of the Imperium's forces were in transit…

Creed shuddered at the possibilities. The Astronomican had just recently blinked off for a fraction of a second, and that was enough to disrupt logistics and communication in many sectors. Thousands upon thousands of ships—some full with Guards units—were lost within the Warp. Creed thought that the one report of an entire Astartes chapter lost in the Warp due to said blinking of the beacon was a gross exaggeration, but at this moment he could not be certain.

His underground command bunker rumbled again. The Traitors knew that the first step to dominating Terra was to conquer Luna. The Nova cannons built into Luna had already destroyed a few cruisers, but the dent they put into the Traitor's numbers was negligible.

They would soon attempt a massive orbital drop into Luna, Creed surmised. Although it would seem suicidal, seizing the massive Nova Cannons mounted on Luna was the surest way the Traitors had to assert dominance in the space around Terra. Without control of Luna, the Nova Cannons would continue to pick off heretic ships and provide fire support for the Imperium's battlefleets, making their descent onto Terra much more perilous.

The naval battles were still taking place, but the Heretics had the strength of numbers. Creed glanced at the hololith display; astronomic sensor arrays had already picked up a swarm of transports disengaging from troop carrier ships and heading toward Luna. Without even his orders, his aides had commanded interceptor wings block their approach and mobilized all anti-air installations to shoot them down before they land. Creed knew, however, that whatever countermeasures they muster could not stop all the drop pods.

The situation was bleak, to put it mildly. Creed was slightly intimidated; even though he had faced worse odds during the Black Crusade, the knowledge that his logistics chain was virtually indestructible was a great comfort to both him and his men. It meant that they could have reinforcements, ammunition and other essential supplies shipped to them whenever they desired. The Admirals of the battlefleets currently in Terran orbit gave him no such guarantees.

"Sir," a communication aide handed him a large vox phone with both his hands and bowed, "Lord Commander Dante wishes to speak with you."

The Blood Angels. Creed drew out a pent-up sigh and picked up the phone. He was fully cognizant of the exploits of the Sons of Sanguinius, and to say that they left a bad taste in his mouth was putting it lightly. Certainly, their dedication to the Emperor was unquestioned; their Primarch gave his life defending the Emperor from Horus according to legend. But the deeds they performed on and off the battlefield was downright terrifying to many of his Guardsmen.

Moreover, having these chapters on his side could prove to be a double-edged sword, for Creed was also painfully aware of the fierce sense of independence in the _modus operandi _of these Astartes chapters. Though their combat skills were unmatched, their actions could also throw the equivalent of a cyclonic torpedo into his machinations. Needless to say, he would never stand for it.

"Lord Commander, it is an honor." Regardless of his opinions, Creed had to show due respect to this ancient Astartes warrior. "What do you require of us?"

"Lord Castellan. Your exploits during the Black Crusade are known to us." Dante's age clearly showed through his slow and deliberate speech. "The sons of Sanguinius are marshaled on Luna. We understand that the Traitors would attack soon."

"Yes, Lord Commander. In fact, our sensors indicate that the first wave of pods would be dropping right now. We have diverted interceptors to prevent their landing."

"The Traitors are moving fast, but I am afraid that this would only be a screening force." Dante's combat experience greatly exceeded Creed's own, and Creed was inclined to take the Astartes' opinions seriously. "They would use their numbers to exhaust our ammunition and occupy our interceptors, so that they may strike at another location."

"That is a likely tactical option that they may exploit," Creed concurred, "though our sensors have not yet picked up anything resembling a two-pronged attack."

"Being the Traitor's siege specialists, the Iron Warriors are the most likely to spearhead the assault," Dante continued, "the Imperial Fists must be salivating at once again settling the score between them and these specific Traitors."

Creed chuckled: "Their talents are best spent fortifying the Imperial Palace."

"Indeed. And if this should be Chaos' final push against us, the Traitor Primarchs must be amongst their ranks."

Creed drew in a sharp breath. The names of these Traitor Primarchs were enough to strike nightmares into the weak-willed. They were the closest thing to the Emperor, who was Himself a physical God amongst men. Twisted by Chaos and corrupted by the Warp, he could only imagine the power they would wield.

"The Inquisition will deal with them."

"They will, certainly; but Lord Castellan, you must be prepared to sacrifice your men to slow them down. We cannot afford to deplete the Astartes in large numbers, for we both know where the real battle would be fought."

Damn you, you sanctimonious vampire, Creed cursed. Though Dante spoke the truth, not even Creed would be foolish enough to simply throw men against demigods and use their sacrifices to slow them down. Putting aside the extremely low chance of such an insane plan working, he had few men available under his command; he could not afford to deplete his strategic reserves so early in a conflict of this scale.

"Sir!" Another aide rushed to him in a hurry and handed him a piece of paper. Creed glanced over the contents of the note and crumpled it, before turning his attention back to the phone.

"Lord Commander, another batch of drop pods and Traitor transports just landed in _Mare Tranquillitatis_."

"The Iron Warriors, no doubt. I shall marshal my forces to meet them in battle immediately. The Emperor be with you, Lord Castellan."

"The Emperor protects."

The call was terminated. Creed sank into his chair in deep thought. _Mare Tranquillitatis_ was a couple hundred kilometers away from his position; if the Iron Warriors worked fast, he would have at most a few hours to evacuate.

"Get me the commanders of the 29th, 88th, and 102nd Siege Korps of Krieg and the Cadian Shock Troop regiments assigned within the _Mare Tranquillitatis_," Creed ordered without hesitation. These forces would be essential in containing the Iron Warriors threat within the _Mare_. They, and the fortifications built around and inside the area, would be his anvil upon which he shall place the enemy.

"Also, get me all the artillery units around that area. I want their positions well concealed from orbital counter-battery fire." If the Iron Warriors were indeed making a daring drop here by using the drop from the main force as a decoy, there had to be supporting elements of their fleet nearby. The artillery elements was the mallet with which Creed would hammer the enemy; to lose it to orbital bombardment so early in the battle would be unnecessary.

"Lastly, get me the commander of the Luna Defense Fleet, and request that they wipe out the Traitor's transport fleet above the _Mare_." Even without his request, it would be the painfully obvious thing to do; Creed sat back and lit another cigar. On his words, men would perish, fortresses would be torn asunder, and devastation would follow.

As it should be in warfare.

* * *

><p>Kyubey could not remember when he was punted into the Warp.<p>

All he remembered—and this too was shrouded in a thick mist in his mind—was that Kaname Madoka, of all people, blasted a way _through_ his army of Witches, subdued him, and then proceeded to lay waste to Abaddon's fleet before escaping the planet, which Abaddon then conveniently blew up with his giant cannon.

That imbecile!

If Abaddon had not destroyed the planet, Kyubey would still have a planet full of potential sacrifices he could seed to all corners of the universe. He could then quickly raise a grand army to conquer the entire galaxy for his lord.

But now… now…!

Kyubey spat as his body was carried forward, but then a wave of fear struck him. Not only had he failed to acquire Kaname Madoka's shell for his lord's habitation, he had also failed to annex her planet for his use. Though the occasions were exceedingly rare and far between, nobody had survived the Architect of Fate's wrath and told the tale.

At the moment, he was being ushered into Tzeentch's sanctum by a pair of his Greater Daemons through the Crystal Labyrinth. Kyubey himself was incapable of navigating this maze on his own; though he possessed immunity to age, he knew that he could not possibly comprehend the myriad paths and dead-ends of the maze, which were even then constantly shifting and changing.

He remained in his humanoid form. Ever since he entered the Warp and the Lords of Change began escorting him, he could not shift his form. He had no idea why, but frankly he did not care; he had much more immediate problems, for they had arrived at his lord's sanctum.

Being dragged up the spiraling stairs of the Hidden Library, Kyubey had no mood to marvel at the floating bookshelves around the staircase and the many Lords of Change that scurried between them, being used as nothing but librarians. Only his lord could master this many powerful daemons for mundane tasks such as organizing arcane tomes.

The concept of time was meaningless within such a twisted realm. It only seemed a short while since they started their ascent, but Kyubey was already delivered in front of ornate trellis gates that stood guard in front of the Grand Schemer's chamber. With soft creaks, the gates opened on their own, revealing a path paved with crystals that shifted colors as the Lords of Change treaded upon them.

With each step, Kyubey's fear grew. What would his master think of his failures? What punishment would Tzeentch deem appropriate for him?

How much would he suffer?

Kyubey was tossed before Tzeentch's throne. Trembling, he kneeled on all fours, unable to even muster any courage to look up.

"Incubator," the Changer of the Ways spoke, his voice wispy and hollow.

"Master," Kyubey shuddered at the single word.

"We are aware of your failures, Incubator. To say that we are displeased is an understatement."

"Master, I… I submit myself to your judgment."

"As you should," Tzeentch scoffed, "but what makes you think that punishing you would bring us satisfaction?"

"I… Forgive my insolence, master."

The Chaos God chuckled; each laugh sent shocks of frost into Kyubey's core: "Your apology has little worth to us, Incubator. Though your incompetence is less than satisfactory to us, it was not unanticipated."

"… Master?"

"Contingency plans must be set in motion. Many other plots must be carefully executed. Countless agents in the Materium must be manipulated, and their actions meticulously recorded and predicted. Much work lies ahead, Incubator, and you are one of our most crucial pieces on the board."

"I… Master, I am honored," Kyubey let out a silent breath of relief. He would not be punished, it seemed.

"Abaddon was also an important piece, but unlike other pieces he is expendable; as are his forces, of course. You, on the other hand, must endure, as must all your kind within the Materium. For that purpose, certain… alterations must be made."

Kyubey felt his body seize up. Every single piece of bone in his body creaked and screamed as he screamed with them. His flesh and skin shrunk, twisting into bulbous tumors before being absorbed into his smaller body. By the time the mutations were completed, he was walking the thin line of consciousness, unable to feel anything but numbness in his new quadruped body.

"M… master…" he panted as he glanced on the ground with whatever willpower he could muster. His new body looked exactly like his older, more innocuous form.

"This form would prove to be useful in infiltrating the Materium. We are aware that you have had some success in concealing your presence in this form, and we have made certain changes to enhance such functions."

The reverberating burning and stabbing sensation made Kyubey sniffle: "Th… thank you, Master… you are too kind…"

"And now, you shall be seeded into the Materium as my agents to carry out my will."

"What is… what is your will, Master?"

"Times are interesting even for me, Incubator. Though we are being threatened, it is also an incredible opportunity for us to expand and conquer. You will be instrumental in this endeavor."

"I will not fail again, Master."

"Depart. Your instructions will come in the coming days. Now… I have an important game to finish."

As his lord finished these words, the floor beneath Kyubey opened. The next moment, he was inside what appeared to be a dark alley that served as the final resting place for many homeless humans. Sighing, he strutted out of the alley onto a small causeway, only to see large power-armored men and vehicles roll into the streets.

In the distance, the Imperial Palace glittered in the sun.

* * *

><p>Madoka's arrow pierced the head of a Bloodthirster. It exploded into a shower of gore that spontaneously combusted into Warp flame like its headless body. The giant creature's corpse fell backwards as it burned, crushing and lighting smaller daemons under it ablaze.<p>

"How many is that now?" She panted and nocked another arrow. A golden gate of light marked their exit to the Webway, and yet so many daemons lay in their path that they could only advance in increments of steps. With a quiet "twang" of the ethereal bowstring, the pink arrow flew through a dozen minor daemons before exploding inside another Bloodthirster's right knee, blowing off its entire lower leg and sending its massive body crashing down onto the ground.

"I have lost count, unfortunately," He responded as she shielded the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen from a flurry of heavy Warp blasts. They fired at whatever they could harm with their weapons, slowly but surely adding some body counts to the group's kill tally. Luckily, Homura still had a stockpile of lasguns and power packs for the Guardsmen, or they would have been liabilities.

Homura and Sayaka danced back to back in front of her, carving a trail of broken daemon parts and burning Warp fire as the group advanced. Wielding a power sword, Homura effortlessly sliced apart a Tzeentchian Horror; its mutagenic flames flowed around her barrier, causing it to burst into a shower of brilliant light. Sayaka parried the next attack aimed at them by a Bloodletter; her sword cleaved clean through its weapon and her follow-up attack cut it apart at its chest. Kyouko and Hitomi shielded Madoka's flanks, repelling daemons who attempted to encircle and strike at Madoka in the center.

"Our psychic emanations are attracting every single daemon in the vicinity," He said as Madoka fired another burst of arrows, annihilating daemons by the dozen with each shot. It barely put a dent in their numbers, however.

"I never expected this many here!" Madoka spun around and shot another Bloodthirster in its face. A dozen streaks of eldritch lightning forced her to erect a shield; they crackled and scattered against the pink protective film, making her wince as they hit.

"The corruption of the Webway is extensive. By the looks of it, the daemons are likely to have run amok since I sealed the Golden Throne. Compounded with our… attractiveness to these creatures, we will likely have to fight our way through every single one of them if we want to reach our exit."

"I never wanted to be so attractive!" Madoka pouted. "At least not to these abominations!"

"I am sure some of them would not mind to commit some more… questionable deeds to you if we were to be apprehended."

"… Is that your way of motivating me?" Madoka gritted her teeth.

"I thought it would work," He smiled. "On the bright side, perhaps you might just lure in a handsome gentleman with your charms."

"Are there such people as 'handsome gentlemen' in this place!?" Madoka snapped incredulously.

"You never know," He teased, but Madoka really was not in the mood for it at the moment.

"You said the Golden Throne was sealed. What happens when we breach it?"

He quietly cleared His throat: "The remaining daemons would likely attempt to follow. We must seal the Throne again upon our arrival as swiftly as we can. I believe with some power from you and the correct incantations, we would be able to accomplish that with few problems."

Madoka's hands and eyes glowed pink as her bow vanished. Her body lifted off the ground as her hair fluttered according to intangible gusts. With a loud grunt of exertion, she pushed her hemispherical barrier out. Minor daemons, upon contact with the barrier, shriveled and disappeared with hoarse, painful screams, their warped essence forcibly sapped from them and fed into the barrier. For greater daemons such as the Bloodthirster and Keepers of Secret, their consumption took far longer: they were flayed layer by layer until nothing but a flicker of Warp fire was left, and then judiciously these flames too were extinguished.

The spell left the rest of the daemons apprehensive. Some had smelled fear for the very first time since their conception in the Warp, and the host hesitated to advance, giving Homura and her friends a valuable moment of reprieve.

Which was just as well, as Madoka collapsed on all fours in exhaustion after the spell. The presence of Sayaka made constructing complex spells difficult, even though she had moved some distance from them, fighting alone in a thick storm of eldritch abominations.

Homura glanced back at Madoka's panting form. Using this chance of rest, she dashed to Madoka's side: "Madoka! Are you okay?"

"I'm… fine…!" Sweat dripped from her hair down to the ground as she gasped for breath. "I just… need to catch my… my breath…"

"The spell is effective," He commented as Homura helped Madoka stand again.

"Yeah, but how many times can I repeat that?" Madoka glanced forward. Though the burst of energy had vaporized a considerable number of daemons, even more remained, crammed like sardines inside the ruined Webway. "If only I could find… a spell that… vaporizes every single one of them…"

Sensing her weakness, a swarm of screeching Furies dived at Madoka, their fanged jaws wide open and their clawed appendages extended to strike.

"Back off!" Homura snarled. Her bracers glowed a brilliant violet as she swept her hand. As the Furies entered the film of power that sweep of her hand created, they were enveloped in an eerie monochrome aura. No matter how much they struggled and screeched, their body would not move. And then, Homura hurled them back toward the daemonic host like missiles with an impatient wave of her hand. Their impacts snapped spines and shattered skulls, and their screeches of suffering could be heard even by Madoka, who was busy browsing her collection of knowledge she obtained in the Black Library.

"Homura, I'm fine…"

"It's my job to protect you, Madoka." Homura left no room for discussion. "I'm staying by your side."

"Then… watch my back, Homura-chan!" Through the many speckles of light, Madoka had finally found the fragment of knowledge for which she sought. Gently pushing Homura aside, she finally stood steady after almost falling to the ground. Taking a deep breath, she gathered whatever energies she could, and—much to her own surprise—she started chanting a spell in an ancient, incomprehensible tongue.

Homura could feel the spell taking shape. Madoka herself was wrapped in a brilliant pink aura, and three pairs of ethereal wings sprouted behind her back. There was no time for her to marvel at Madoka's beauty, however; even as she chanted the lengthy spell, the daemonic horde continued to surge forward.

"Defend the Goddess Empress!" Kane punched a daemonic hound of Khorne in its muzzle as it lunged at Madoka. The punch almost shattered the bones in his hands, but it sent the beast tumbling to the side as he intended. A couple of bolt pistol rounds cracked open the creature's cranium and lit its entire body ablaze, and the corpse slowly burned out in a pyre of Warp fire.

Even the Guardsmen, who were not inherently psychic, felt the commanding presence of their Goddess. Luckily for them, these daemons either had no concept of tactics, or that they thought they could overwhelm the party of ten with their sheer numbers alone. Every las shot, even ones that were fired blindly as the Guardsmen moved, hit something. As the huge circle of power formed on the ground, even the las bolts became deadly against the daemons; what used to inflict minor flesh wounds on a Bloodletter could then blow off its entire upper torso.

Hitomi felt a burst of vigor funneled into her. She smashed her hammer into the ground, the exploding power field blowing away dozens of minor daemons like a gust scattering fallen leaves. Her usual water-green glow took on a tinge of pink as she engaged a Keeper of Secret. Despite its best attempts at inflicting damage with its blades, its pincers, its claws, and even its prehensile, jawed tongue, it recoiled every time when it came into contact with Hitomi's enhanced aura. A flurry of hammer strikes to its grotesque face sent its head exploding into fine, burning mist. Using this momentum, Hitomi landed with an authoritative stomp and swung her hammer around, crushing a handful of minor daemonic beasts into oblivion.

Kyouko, too, was affected as Madoka droned on with the spell's incantations. To her surprise and amazement, the links between the segments of her spear dissolved into ethereal links of energy. Immediately, she used this energy like garroting wire, beheading a Daemonette by wrapping it around its neck and tightening the resulting loop. Then, she quickly separated the spear into more segments, creating a deadly web of power that cut countless less intelligent daemonic beasts into bite-sized chunks.

Homura stood in front of Madoka with her autocannon. She had never used the weapon since she obtained it because of its weight and bulk; the aura emanating from Madoka gave her enough power to actually hold the weapon without expending too much of her own energy. The weapon let out deafening roars of joy as Homura fired it, sending pink 40mm shells into these daemons with impeccable accuracy: one was enough to blow apart a minor daemon, and a handful of them sent even greater daemons to their knees.

To her great suspicion, however, the daemons did not retreat even in the face of horrific losses. With Madoka's radiating aura, even greater daemons—who would normally be opponents that could decimate entire armies—were reduced to mere cannon fodder; the smart thing to do would be to retreat, and Homura was certain that they would be intelligent enough to make the judgment call.

Then, why did they not do so?

Her answer came screaming toward Madoka. It was not a swarm of Furies this time, no; they would be utterly ineffective in this suicidal maneuver. This was something special, something that not even Homura could catch with her eyes until it was too late. It had the body of a snake, yet leathery wings propelled it forward as lithely as an eel in water. It wielded a great, wicked sword in each of its hands, and its eyes glowed with trails of power.

By the time Homura reacted, it was already inches in front of Madoka, whose eyes were closed and whose chanting continued. Its entire body was burning from Madoka's aura, but its actions did not slow one bit. To the contrary, its shape was shielded by a thin layer of bright violet aura. That aura fought furiously against Madoka's own, causing bolts of lightning to strike between them.

Homura understood. The daemons—all of them—were simply a diversion, something to keep her and the rest of her party occupied while leaving Madoka vulnerable. Chaos had placed a trap here, knowing that though these daemons were no match for Madoka's might, she had to resort to casting a large spell to sweep the fodders clean due to their sheer numbers. When she did that, she would have a period of time where she would be vulnerable. And during this precise period, the Ruinous Powers would strike with their most powerful assassin and attempt to destroy her.

And they fell for it, hook, line and sinker.

"NO!" Homura screamed as the creature swung its sword at Madoka's head, aiming to decapitate her in one blow. The Inquisitor and the Guardsmen had yet to turn around to witness this moment, and the other girls were simply too busy on their end to intervene. The sword let loose a bone-chilling light as it descended; so swift was its attack that the blade itself rang.

But it never met its intended target. The loud sound of metal meeting metal almost deafened Homura as the strike was parried. By the time she noticed, a large man had appeared in front of Madoka, his blade holding steady against the foul creature's attack.

The creature hissed; to say that it was unhappy with the results would be a monumental understatement. With the rest of its arms, it engaged the newcomer with a furious flurry of attacks too fast for Homura's eyes to track, but he parried them with seemingly little difficulty.

The newcomer sported tarnished golden power armor and blood-soaked fur around his neck. His red hair was tied into an incredibly long pony tail, and his equally long beard bunched up with blood stains. Having no wings, he could not fly, but the hover bike on which he rode provided that capability; it was grotesquely shaped and adorned with many heads hewn from what appeared to be corrupted Eldar.

Madoka's aura wrapped around the newcomer as he exchanged blow after blow against the daemon with the same lightning speed as the daemon itself. His sickle-shaped scimitar clashed against the daemon's swords. To its great frustration, even though it had four arms of weapons against one, it could not touch him.

Brought out of the daze of seeing the sudden entrance of the large man, Homura whipped her autocannon around and fired one after another psychically enchanted shell into the daemon's back. It howled in pain, but it could not do much against her, for the newcomer would have cleaved it in half if it were to turn its attention away from him for but a single moment. Caught between Homura's unending barrage and the newcomer's relentless blows, it could not advance even though Madoka was but a moment away.

Finally, it selected retreat. Parrying one last blow against the newcomer, it flew straight upwards with punctured and bleeding wings, deftly evading Homura's cannon rounds as she followed its movements. That proved a smart decision in a moment: Madoka's spell was ready.

Nocking an arrow with her bow, she fired it straight forward. The arrow itself punctured countless daemons, but it was merely a delivery device. Each daemon pierced by the arrow exploded into pink beams of power, each of which shot at a daemon around it. Daemons struck by the beam blew up in similar fashions, fueling the spell with its own Warp energy. The chain reaction linked daemon with daemon and beast with beast, each one of them becoming the doom of their many brethren, until none were left standing.

Madoka collapsed immediately after the last daemon perished. After their gambit ended in complete failure, Chaos retreated to lick their wounds in order to prepare for the next offensive, while Madoka and her companions could find some reprieve.

"Madoka! Madoka! Madoka!" Homura discarded her autocannon and sprinted to her side. Madoka's breaths were quick and shallow, and her entire body was drenched in sweat. No matter how much Homura called, she would not respond.

The newcomer hopped off of his hover bike and towered over them, his scimitar still drawn. Homura placed her body between him and Madoka, but her attention was completely focused on the pink-haired Goddess, who had just came back to consciousness.

"Homura-chan… did it work?" She asked weakly.

"Yeah… yeah it did…" Homura could feel something moist in her eyes as she smiled, "Dummy… You had me worried there…"

"I'm so glad…" Madoka let out a quiet sigh of relief, but then her face grew grim: "That was…"

"Fulgrim." The large man replied without a prompt after sheathing his blade.

"Having sent him to apprehend us, the Chaos gods must be desperate," Madoka's eyes glowed gold as her voice took on a masculine edge. "However, we are indeed grateful that you have come in our time of need, Jaghatai."

Jaghatai Khan nodded and kneeled in a gesture of obedience, to Homura's surprise. Even when kneeling, he was taller than Homura: "I have come as you called, Father, but you are… not the shape I expected."

"Fate works in the most fickle of ways, my son. I am glad, however, that you are unharmed."

"My campaign against the foul xenos is not yet finished, Father."

"I… We have need of your service once again."

"Then I shall serve."

"All I ask is to obey this partner of mine—this woman—as you would obey me, my son. Give the same reverence to her as you would afford me. For her will is mine, and mine hers."

"Yes, Father."

Madoka let out a soft sigh as the glow in her eyes subsided: "Thank you… I'm so glad that you came… Homura-chan, help me up…"

"Ah, um, okay…" Homura was not certain what to make of the situation. To say that she expected to see Jaghatai Khan of all people here would be straddling the line of truth. She glanced at the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen: they were all kneeling on the ground in front of the large man, and a couple of the Guardsmen were even trembling in awe.

"Father, what would you ask of me?" He rumbled.

Madoka sighed and feigned a smile: "First, please stand. I am not exactly your father, so just call me… Madoka, I guess?"

"As you wish, Madoka," he slowly stood up. Homura could then truly admire just exactly how tall and muscular he was. He was physically more powerful than anything Homura had seen, but she was amazed at how fast he could also move with that much bulk.

"Now. These people," Madoka gestured to Homura, Sayaka, Kyouko and Hitomi, who by then had gathered around her, "are my closest allies and dear friends. I would never wish for any harm to befall them, so everyone please get along well!" A flurry of acknowledgements came, much to her satisfaction.

"We can't remain here for long, Madoka," Homura urged as Madoka flexed her body, "they would counterattack as soon as they can regroup."

"Then let's go, shall we?" Madoka turned around and gestured the Inquisitor and the Guardsmen, who—very reluctantly—stood, but still had their heads bowed. She then walked up to the gate, and pushed against its frames.

"Toward a brighter future for everyone."

The gates creaked open.


End file.
